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KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NKW  YORK    •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO 
SAN    FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Limited 

LONDON  •  BOMBAY  •  CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  Ltd. 

TORONTO 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 


THE  STORY  OF  A  SELF-MADE  MAN 


BY 

GUSTAV   FRENSSEN 

AUTHOR  OF  "  JORN  UHL,"  ETC. 


AUTHORIZED  TRANSLATION  FROM  THE  GERMAN  BY   ESTHER   EVERETT   LAPE 
AND  ELIZABETH  FISHER  READ 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 
1911 

All  rights  reserved 


COPTRIGHT,    1909, 

Bt  G.   GEOTE'SCHE  VERLAGSBUCHHANDLUNG  in  BERLIN. 

COPTBIGHT,    1911, 

By  the  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  March,  igii.     Reprinted 
April,  191 1. 


Norbioot)  ipress 

J.  8.  Gushing  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 

Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 


^-  O  ^-2  O  /  O 


KLAUS  HmRICII  BAAS 


CHAPTER  I 

Up  on  the  edge  of  the  high  dry  land  on  the  coast  stands 
the  old  Holstein  seat  Heisterberg.  The  air  is  so  clear 
thereabouts  that  in  sunny  October,  when  the  dry  rustling 
beansheaves  are  being  loaded  on  the  wagons  in  the  sloping 
fields  to  the  west  of  the  village,  the  young  workman, 
standing  unsteadily  on  top  of  his  moving  load,  sometimes 
declares  that  he  sees  the  towers  of  Hamburg  and  the 
bridges  of  the  Elbe,  and,  on  the  other  side,  the  lights  of 
Cuxhaven  rising  out  of  the  water. 

From  a  barren  little  field  just  west  of  the  village  one 
can  see  even  farther.  It  would  be  just  the  place  for  a 
graveyard,  in  which  ghosts  of  these  and  of  bygone  days 
could  sit  on  the  mounds  and  monuments  night  after  night 
and  be  sufficiently  diverted  —  by  the  wide  firmament, 
sparkling  with  stars  from  the  depths  of  the  sea  to  the 
heights  and  to  the  forests  on  the  other  side,  by  the  silent 
night  sky,  by  the  raging  storms,  and  by  the  gleam  of 
lights  from  the  houses.  Or  it  would  be  a  good  place  for 
a  battery ;  for  though  narrow,  it  is  long  enough  to  admit 
sixty  cannon  in  a  row  pointed  directly  at  the  Elbe.  Or 
it  would  be  a  good  place  for  a  historian  ;  for  what  things 
of  moment  have  happened  near  this  place  —  and  what  may 
still  happen  here  ?  It  is  the  very  gate  of  the  whole 
country. 

Now,  however,  there  is  nothing  in  or  near  the  field  but 
a  little  gray  thatched  house  with  low  walls  and  windows, 
and  a  tiny  gable  window  to  let  a  little  light  into  the 
garret. 


2  KLilUy  ,  HIIMRICH  BAAS 

In  this  house,  the  walls  and  roof  of  which  were  renewed 
alternately  every  thirty  years,  so  that  it  never  sagged  or  col- 
lapsed —  since,  indeed,  it  was  never  more  than  thirty  years 
old,  —  there  had  been  living  for  many,  many  years,  indeed 
for  centuries,  a  family  named  Baas.  The  word  Baas  means 
lord  or  master.  But  the  people  of  the  lower  Elbe  like  a 
joke,  and  it  would  be  hard  to  tell  whether  the  man  that 
first  bore  this  name,  a  thousand  years  ago,  was  an  able 
fellow,  the  owner,  say,  of  an  Anglo-Saxon  ship  —  for  the 
word  is  still  used  in  the  shipping  trade  —  or  whether  lie 
was  a  plain  fool.  The  Baases  do  generally  show  a  certain 
enterprise  and  aspiration  in  their  erect  carriage ;  and  in 
their  eager  open  bearing  they  have  something  of  the  con- 
vincing air  of  a  seaworthy  ship  proudly  cutting  the  foam, 
a  certain  suggestion,  so  to  speak,  of  "  Here  I  come  "  ;  but 
their  character  does  not  correspond  entirely  with  this  air. 
They  are  always  getting  out  of  bounds,  because  of  a  gen- 
erous, if  sensuous,  fire  and  a  sort  of  well-intentioned  folly; 
in  these  very  follies  they  show  that  their  race  contains 
good  old  stock  and  a  kind  of  repressed  passion,  but  they 
also  show  that  it  lacks  steadiness  and  tenacity  and  silent 
determination.  Some  of  the  race  have  even  lost  this  ardor 
altogether.  They  still  have,  it  is  true,  a  pretty  fair  phys- 
ical bearing,  but  they  have  grown  cold  and  shrewd.  In 
looking  at  them,  one  would  think  involuntarily  of  unpaid 
cobblers'  bills ;  and  that  is  fitting,  for  they  have  an 
especial  leaning  toward  shoemaking  —  or  else  toward  small 
public  jobs.  Aiid  they,  too,  are  subject  to  sudden  notions 
and  are  likely  to  get  out  of  bounds ;  but  with  them  this 
is  due  to  an  avaricious  soul  and  a  petty  calculating 
spirit. 

It  certainly  was  doubtful,  then,  whether  the  name  had 
first  been  given  a  thousand  years  ago  in  earnest  or  in  jest, 
—  to  a  great  man  or  to  a  would-be  great  one.  It  was 
doubtful  —  until  one  of  them  married  a  woman  whose 
harshness  and  temper,  like  flint,  struck  into  flame  the  old 
smouldering  fire.  Then  it  was  almost  possible  to  believe 
that  the  first  Baas  had  been  really  great ;  and  the  old 
proverb  came  into  play,  that  he  who  would  place  his  stock 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  3 

upon  its  feet  again  must  take  unto  himself  a  doughty  and 
capable  wife. 

On  a  windy  day  in  April,  many  years  ago,  a  cheerful 
little  Baas,  who  had  been  working  out  with  a  farmer  all 
summer,  was  going  back  to  school  for  the  first  time  from 
the  thatched  cottage  on  the  high  field.  Although  he  was 
an  orderly  little  fellow,  and,  in  the  way  of  the  Baases,  had 
a  vigorous  and  erect  bearing,  he  was  nevertheless  far  from 
being  in  a  comfortable  temper,  for  among  the  sheaves  in 
the  field  he  had  forgot  much  of  his  book  learning,  and  the 
teacher  was  a  strict  man.  And  even  more  formidable 
than  the  teacher  was  a  young  girl,  only  a  little  older  than 
himself,  but  very  clever,  whose  duty  it  was  to  get  up  into 
the  ranks  again  those  that  had  dropped  behind  in  the 
summer.  She  lived  in  a  wretched,  lonely  little  place  far 
out  on  the  edge  of  the  cultivated  land.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  crusty,  taciturn  people,  and  was  herself  silent 
and  surly.  She  had  tormented  this  little  Baas  the  year 
before,  had,  indeed,  singled  him  out,  and  he  was  afraid 
that  it  was  going  to  begin  all  over  again. 

The  minute  they  had  finished  the  song  and  the  prayer, 
she  was  standing  there  behind  him  to  examine  his  writing 
exercise.  His  little  fingers,  still  stiff  from  handling  reins 
and  pitchfork,  had  not  yet  written  a  whole  line,  and  she 
struck  him  with  the  little  ruler  she  had  concealed  in  her 
hand. 

Since  she  was  the  teacher's  assistant,  the  little  fellow 
—  he  was  only  about  eleven  —  did  not  dare  to  report  his 
ill-treatment  to  the  teacher,  although  he  was  standing 
beside  her.  So  he  went  home  crying,  to  tell  his  mother. 
Angry  to  liave  anything  of  that  kind  done  to  her  dear 
little  fellow,  but,  like  her  boy,  afraid  of  the  teacher,  she 
accosted  the  girl  as  she  was  going  by  the  house  to  her 
lonely  field  the  next  day,  and  said,  "  Are  you  going  to  try 
hurting  my  little  boy  again,  you  big  beater,  you  ?  " 

The  girl  cast  her  shrewd  sharp  eyes  toward  the  angry 
woman  and  the  boy  clinging  to  her  apron,  made  a  bow, 
and  strode  rapidly  by.  She  was  a  rather  thin  creature, 
loosely  built,  with  a  long  stride. 


4  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

She  cuffed  the  youngster  all  winter  whenever  she  could, 
and  showed  him  in  every  possible  way  that  she  did  not 
like  him.  Even  in  the  next  winter,  when  he  had  grown 
stronger  than  she,  she  kept  up  her  resentful  interest  in 
him,  persecuting  him  with  her  sharp  glances  and  her 
quick  scorn,  and  delighting  in  casting  up  to  him  how  he 
had  held  fast  to  his  mother's  apron-strings. 

Then  he  went  into  service,  first  with  one  farmer,  then 
with  another.  He  was  growing  up  rapidly,  and  for  many 
a  long  year  he  did  not  see  her  again. 

When  he  was  twenty,  and  had  just  begun  his  military 
service,  he  had  to  serve  in  the  war  with  Denmark.  The 
third  man  in  his  squad  happened  to  be  a  young  candidate 
for  the  ministry,  a  clever  enough  fellow,  but  clumsy  about 
doing  things.  He  was  constantly  getting  into  trouble 
because  he  could  not  manage  to  keep  his  outfit,  his  boots 
and  arms,  in  order.  One  day  when  they  were  besieging 
a  fortress,  he  had  received  another  reprimand  because  his 
rifle  was  dirty.  Jan  Baas,  ready,  skilful,  and  obliging,  as 
usual,  took  the  rifle  from  him  as  he  sat  there  drearily 
shaking  his  head  over  his  own  awkwardness,  and  cleaned 
it.  The  poor  distressed  devil  of  a  candidate  sat  beside 
him,  saying,  "  I  can't  make  it  up  to  you  at  all";  but  Jan 
Baas  comforted  him  by  saying  magnanimously,  "  Some 
day,  when  you  are  a  minister,  you  shall  baptize  a  baby  for 
me  for  notliing."  The  candidate  promised  that  he  would, 
much  to  the  amusement  of  the  whole  company.  When 
Jan  Baas  came  back  from  the  campaign,  he  liked  hugely  to 
tell  this  story,  as  he  sat  with  other  idle  young  folks  with 
his  glass  of  beer.  He  would  look  around  him  right  stur- 
dily and  boldly,  like  a  true  Baas,  and  say,  "  So  this  is 
where  I'm  ahead  of  you  all!  I  have  a  free  baptism  com- 
ing to  me!" 

In  the  year  following  the  war  his  father  died,  leaving  to 
him  and  his  brother  three  heritages,  the  worn  old  thatched 
house  on  the  high  field,  —  it  needed  new  walls  again,  —  a 
herd  of  a  hundred  sheep,  which  he  had  led  to  pasture 
around  the  fields  of  the  marshland,  and  an  invalid  mother. 
His  brother,  a  covetous  soul,  complained  that  he  was  not 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  5 

strong,  that  he  had,  indeed,  had  a  rupture;  that  he  was  so 
melancholy  that  he  had  already  stood  three  times  in  front 
of  the  well  in  tlie  yard,  intending  to  jump  in,  and  that  he 
had  been  able  to  save  himself  only  by  repeating  three 
times,  "  Praised  be  Jesus  Christ  I  "  He  added  that  his 
brother  might  make  over  the  herd  to  him.  Then,  sad, 
desolate,  and  solitary,  he  would  journey  from  village  to 
village  until  he  came  to  Sylt.  His  brother,  he  added, 
might  keep  for  himself  "the  ancestral  seat,"  and  with  it 
the  love  of  their  dear  mother,  of  which  he  was  not  worthy, 
however  dear  both  these  things  were  to  him.  Jan  Baas 
looked  down,  ashamed  to  look  the  rascal  in  the  face;  and 
then  he  assented  to  the  proposal.  The  brother  went  off 
with  the  herd,  sold  it,  and  off  on  the  upland  married  the 
rich,  elderly,  withered  daughter  of  a  farmer.  He  never 
came  around  again. 

Jan  Baas  remained  in  the  house  on  the  high  field,  went 
to  work  in  the  fields  for  the  farmers,  and  in  the  evenings 
mended  at  the  wall.  At  the  end  of  the  week  he  put  his 
wages  into  his  sick  mother's  hand.  Once  in  a  while  on  a 
Sunday  evening  he  did  make  love  to  a  girl.  When  people 
rallied  him,  perhaps  on  account  of  the  free  baptism  he  had 
in  prospect,  perhaps  on  account  of  his  division  of  the 
estate  with  his  brother,  he  looked  gayly  around,  laughing 
so  deliciously  at  himself  and  at  the  joke  of  the  whole 
thing  that  people  declared  that  the  best  thing  in  all 
Heisterberg  was  certainly  Jan  Baas's  laugh. 

When  his  mother  died,  when  he  was  about  twenty-five, 
he  thought  that  he  had  better  get  married,  but  he  did 
not  know  to  whom.  He  certainly  had  liked  all  the  girls 
he  had  taken  out  with  him  heretofore,  but  he  hadn't  liked 
any  one  of  them  as  a  wife.  He  reasoned  that  something 
very  special  was  necessary  :  he  wanted  to  understand  her, 
and  yet  not  be  entirely  able  to,  to  feel  a  great  and  silent 
respect  for  her,  and  a  perpetual  surprise. 

While  he  was  on  the  lookout,  he  met  at  a  dance  the 
girl  that  used  to  rap  him  over  the  knuckles.  Nearly 
thirty  now,  she  had  a  settled  and  sour  sort  of  beauty, 
though  she  was  still  pretty  thin  and  had  the  same  sharp 


6  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

eyes.  She  was  a  dressmaker.  She  had  remained  single 
because  she  was  as  thorny  as  a  thistle,  especially  when  a 
young  man  came  near  her.  They  danced  together  all 
evening  without  saying  a  word,  for  whenever  he  tried 
to  say  anything  she  said  that  she  never  talked  while  she 
was  dancing  ;  and  when  he  tried  again  at  the  intermission 
she  said  that  the  air  was  very  thick  and  that  she  didn't 
want  to  swallow  any  dust.  When  on  the  way  home  he 
insisted  on  talking,  she  flared  up  at  once.  It  sounded 
like  the  hissing  of  glowing  tiretongs  in  water.  Then  she 
went  off,  leaving  him  standing  there.  And  the  same 
thing  happened  three  or  four  times. 

Meeting  her  at  another  time,  he  declared  that  they 
really  ought  to  talk  over  the  wedding  a  little.  She 
turned  away  as  if  he  had  insulted  her  gravely,  and  said 
sharply,  "It's  all  one  to  me;  I  don't  want  to." 

"Well,  then,"  he  said  guardedly,  "  on  such  and  such  a 
day." 

She  was  quiet  for  a  while,  annoyed  that  he  was  whis- 
tling. What  else  could  he  do?  If  he  talked,  she  was  wild 
with  anger.  Then  she  broke  out,  "Your  house  is  going 
to  fall  in  pretty  soon." 

He  shook  his  head,  murmured  cautiously  that  he  had 
mended  all  four  walls,  and  went  on  whistling  to  keep 
from  talking. 

"  I'll  be  pretty  careful  about  marrying  a  Baas,"  she 
cried  angrily.  "  The  Baases  are  all  whistlers  and 
triflers."     And  with  that  she  went  away. 

He,  however,  was  quite  satisfied  with  the  outcome  of 
this  little  interview.  He  notified  the  pastor  of  their 
wedding,  and  on  Sunday,  taking  his  accustomed  seat 
under  the  organ  loft,  he  looked  rigidly  before  him,  lest 
he  might  chance  to  catch  her  eye  and  make  her  flee. 
At  the  end  of  the  service  he  walked  from  his  seat  toward 
the  altar,  without  looking  to  right  or  left.  After  he  had 
stood  tliere  alone  for  a  time,  she  came  up  behind  him  and 
stood  by  his  side,  not  close  to  him,  however.  Her  "  Yes," 
following  the  pastor's  speech,  came  out  with  much  the 
same  sort  of  jerk  with  which  she  would  have  thrust  back  a 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  7 

calf  sniffing  at  her  hand.  After  the  wedding  they  went 
through  the  rain}'  autumn  weather  along  the  narrow  path 
toward  his  house,  he  leading  the  way.  When  they  were 
nearly  there,  she  turned  off  the  road  into  the  house  next 
to  theirs,  saying  curtly,  "  Their  girl  has  run  away. 
I've  agreed  to  do  the  milking."  So  he  went  into  the 
little  garden  beside  the  house  to  dig.  And  all  the  while 
he  sang  and  whistled,  quite  distracted  between  surprise 
and  respect  and  concern,  just  as  he  had  expected  to  be. 

Although  they  made  a  living — she  helping  along  clev- 
erly with  her  needle  —  and  although  two  healthy  children 
were  born  to  them,  and  although  Jan  Baas  was  sober  and 
industrious,  his  wife  was  nevertheless  usually  in  a  bad 
temper.  The  very  fact  that  he  was  kind  and  that  he 
could  keep  so  good-natured  tormented  her  difficult  nature  ; 
and  it  hurt  her  pride  that  her  robust  womanhood  was 
always  desiring  his  love  again.  The  very  sight  of  his 
handsome  gay  countenance,  which  was  secretly  her  great 
delight,  stirred  her  to  anger.  The  result  of  course  was 
that  many  hard  words  passed  under  the  little  straw  roof ; 
there  were  many  gusts  and  hailstorms. 

Things  were  at  a  particularly  bad  pass  when  the  third 
child  was  born  and  baptized. 

Since  his  wife  seemed  to  be  in  real  danger,  and  since 
the  roads  were  practically  bottomless  on  account  of  the 
heavy  autumn  rains,  Jan  Baas,  alert  and  ready,  as  usual, 
flung  himself  bareback  on  his  employer's  horse  and  rode  as 
fast  as  the  horse  could  carry  him  through  the  wild  stormy 
night  to  the  town  and  to  the  house  of  the  midwife. 
When  he  got  there  thej^  told  him  that  she  had  been 
called  to  a  house  in  another  street.  As  he  stumbled  along 
through  the  streets  of  the  dark  little  town,  dragging  his 
horse  along  behind  him,  he  recalled  how  four  years 
before  he  had  been  a  gay  young  chap  walking  and  whis- 
tling through  these  very  streets  he  was  now  travelling  as 
the  father  of  two  children,  anxious  about  the  welfare  of 
his  wife  and  the  third  child.  In  his  concern  he  mistook 
his  way  and  knocked  at  the  door  of  three  old  maiden 
ladies,  who  were  sitting  up  with  their  sick  canary.      When 


8  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

he  asked  them  if  the  midwife  was  there,  they  were 
insulted  at  the  very  idea  and  slammed  the  door  in  his 
face.  He  went  on  to  knock  at  the  next  house,  which  was 
also  lighted  up.  But  the  people  there  were  one  stage 
farther  along  than  he  and  his  poor  wife,  for  they  were 
already  celebrating  the  baptism.  They  noisily  urged  the 
forlorn  night  traveller  to  drink  a  glass  of  punch  at  the 
door.  Then  the  young  mother,  taking  pity  on  him,  drove 
one  of  her  guests  out  to  show  him  the  shoemaker's 
house,  where  the  midwife  was. 

Tying  his  horse  to  the  stumpy  linden  standing  like  a 
post  in  front  of  the  windows,  he  went  in  toward  the  light 
in  the  shop,  where  he  found  the  midwife,  a  lean,  elderly 
little  person,  standing  beside  the  bed  in  which  the  shoe- 
maker's wife  lay.  Her  husband,  who  was  using  his  in- 
voluntary vigil  for  his  work,  was  hitting  away  lustily, 
sitting  on  his  bench  with  his  face  toward  the  window  so  that 
only  hisgreat  bald  head  was  visible.  Since  he  was  quite  hard 
of  hearing,  he  never  talked  if  he  could  help  it;  he  didn't 
even  look  around,  or  concern  himself  at  all  about  the 
stranger.  The  two  apprentices,  who  usually  slept  in  the 
big  bed  in  which  the  wife  now  lay  groaning,  were  sitting 
on  the  bench  by  the  blue  plaster  wall,  so  drunk  with  sleep 
that  they  couldn't  hold  up  their  heads.  From  the  adjoin- 
ing room  could  be  heard  the  regular  breathing  of  the  two 
sleeping  children.  Jan  Baas  seated  himself  on  the  solitary 
chair  beside  the  door  and  whiled  away  the  time  by  scrap- 
ing the  mud  from  his  high  boots  with  his  penknife  and 
laying  it,  neatly  moulded  into  clods,  on  the  floor.  He  sat 
there  for  two  hours  until  the  child  had  arrived  and  the 
mother  had  been  looked  after. 

When  he  went  out  into  the  night  with  the  old  woman, 
she  expressed  great  surprise  that  instead  of  a  wagon  there 
was  only  a  big  clumsy  bony  bay  waiting  under  the  linden. 
She  made  up  her  mind  promptly,  however,  and  flinging 
her  outside  skirt  over  her  head,  started  off  bravely  beside 
him  in  her  short  underskirt.  Holding  her  bag  with  one 
hand,  he  guided  his  horse  with  the  other.  It  was  dark, 
wet,  and  stormy,  and  the  roads  were  deep  with  mud. 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  9 

Once  in  a  while,  when  the  moon  broke  through  a  rift  in 
the  clouds,  he  took  a  good  look  at  the  old  woman  striding 
along  beside  him,  her  long  legs  spattered  with  mud  up  to 
the  knees.  "  It  will  take  hours  this  way,"  he  thought. 
"  There's  no  help  for  it  —  we've  both  got  to  ride  on  the 
bay."  He  was  a  roguish  sort  of  fellow,  happy  in  any  sort 
of  beauty,  whether  it  came  from  heaven  or  whether  he  met 
it  in  a  beanfiower  or  in  a  woman's  eyes.  And  he  was 
getting  really  uncomfortable  now.  "  She  doesn't  look  very 
promising,"  he  thought,  "  and  in  her  fright  she'd  squeeze 
me  pretty  hard;  but,  heavens,  what  wouldn't  a  man  do  for 
his  wife  and  child?  " 

He  tried  to  persuade  the  old  woman  to  get  up  on  the 
horse  too,  so  that  even  if  they  did  not  get  along  any  faster 
she  would  at  least  be  out  of  the  mud;  and  then,  if  she 
would  take  her  bag,  he  could  urge  the  horse  on  a  little. 
No,  she  said,  she  had  never  ridden  on  a  horse,  and  she 
happened  to  have  a  particular  grudge  against  horses. 
Guiding  the  long-legged  bay  up  to  a  hedge,  however,  he 
tried  again,  and  finally  succeeded  in  lifting  her  up,  and  in 
handing  her  the  bag,  too.  Then  he  got  up  behind  her. 
On  they  went  again  — her  skirts  flying,  her  arms  clutching 
at  him  tightly,  and  her  bag  flapping.  The  mud  spattered 
them  continually,  and  she  kept  letting  out  horrified  little 
shrieks.  And  thus,  within  a  good  half  hour,  she  arrived  to 
help  the  baby  into  the  world. 

At  dawn,  with  her  skirts  well  tucked  up,  she  set  valiantly 
forth  again.  She  made  Jan  Baas  promise  that  he  would 
keep  a  dead  silence  on  the  subject  of  that  ride,  but  he 
broke  faith.  Though  he  did  not  tell  his  wife,  she  heard 
the  story  from  others,  and  rebuked  him  with  the  utmost 
contempt.  It  was  just  one  more  instance,  she  declared, 
to  show  exactly  what  kind  of  people  the  Baases  were,  when 
they  couldn't  even  take  seriously  so  important  an  event  as 
the  birth  of  their  own  child.  They  were  such  eternal  jokers 
and  laughers  that  they  didn't  even  stop  at  making  their 
own  children  the  objects  of  coarse  raillery  and  gossip.  In- 
deed, twenty-six  years  later,  Klaas  Hinrich  Baas  went  with 
his  wife  one  market-day  to  Burg,  where  they  always  dance 


10  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

with  their  elbows  out,  and  where,  on  account  of  the  great 
crowds,  they  usually  have  to  push  their  way  along.  When 
Klaas  happened  to  bump  into  a  girl,  she  made  a  spiteful 
face  at  him,  saying,  as  she  pushed  by  him  with  an  angry 
look,  "  No  wonder  you  push  your  way  everywhere,  for  it 
wasn't  the  midwife  that  brought  you  into  the  world,  but 
the  devil's  grandmother  on  a  big  black  horse." 

About  four  weeks  later,  when  they  began  to  consider 
the  baptism,  further  difficulties  arose. 

In  the  first  place,  they  couldn't  settle  about  the  god- 
parents. Two  cousins  whom  they  asked  declined ;  they 
belonged  to  the  covetous  sort,  and  wanted  to  save  their 
Sunday  clothes,  and  they  also  feared  to  incur  further 
responsibilities  from  their  cousin's  rapidly  increasing 
family.  Then  Antje  Baas  asked  her  old  father,  who, 
both  because  he  was  made  that  way,  and  because  he  had 
lived  all  his  life  in  that  lonely  field,  was  rather  hard  to 
get  along  with.  She  was  at  her  wits'  end,  however. 
They  also  asked  Libbert  the  tinker,  who  was  so  absolutely 
shy  that  he  turned  his  head  aside  when  people  spoke  to 
him.  The  pastor  was  away  on  a  trip,  but  the  sexton  said 
that  a  minister  from  another  place  was  coming  to  substi- 
tute for  him,  and  that  he  would  attend  to  the  baptism. 

So  there  they  sat  on  a  dull  November  day  in  the  little 
low  brown  room,  Antje  Baas  in  her  black  frock,  Jan 
Baas  in  white  shirtsleeves,  as  befitted  the  father  of  a 
family,  the  two  godfathers  in  black  jackets,  the  children 
in  spick  and  span  Sunday  clothes,  all  waiting  for  the 
minister. 

He  came.  And  Jan  Baas  recognized  him  at  once  as 
the  candidate  for  whom  he  had  cleaned  the  rifle.  Jan 
was  struck  dumb.  He  squeezed  his  chair  into  the  corner 
so  that  his  face  was  invisible  in  the  dim  light,  disguised 
his  voice,  and  absolutely  ignored  the  threatening  looks 
his  wife  sent  him.  Then  she  tried  to  make  her  father 
talk,  but  he  was  disgruntled  because  his  daughter,  out 
of  pure  contrariness,  had  placed  before  him  a  little 
flowered  coffee-cup  that  she  knew  perfectly  well  he 
couldn't   endure.     The  tinker   Libbert,   who  was  at  his 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  11 

very  shyest,  kept  his  head  on  one  side  the  whole  time 
the  minister  was  there,  looking  out  the  window  at  a  hen 
pecking  at  a  beet. 

In  her  confusion  Antje  Baas  took  the  two  children  on 
her  lap  by  turns,  first  chunky  little  Peter,  then  little 
Lotte.  And  all  the  time  she  kept  pinching  down  their 
little  noses,  as  usual,  with  her  thumb  and  forefinger,  to 
prevent  them  from  acquiring  the  arrogant  trifling  char- 
acter of  the  real  Baas  nose,  to  which  she  bore  such  a 
grudge.  Of  course  she  talked  to  the  minister,  too.  He 
drank  a  cup  of  coffee  and  smoked,  and  drank  another  cup, 
and  talked  away  with  Antje  Baas  and  the  youngsters, 
who,  having  outgrown  their  first  awkwardness,  were  be- 
ginning to  talk  a  little. 

When  he  was  ready  to  go,  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
for  Jan  Baas  to  come  out  of  his  corner.  He  walked  along 
the  inside  wall  of  the  room  till  he  came  to  the  little  entry, 
where  he  asked  the  minister,  in  his  disguised  voice,  how 
much  he  owed  him.  The  minister,  with  a  show  of  sur- 
prise, declared  that  that  had  all  been  settled  long  ago,  and 
that  he  was  to  get  this  baptism  free.  And  Jan  Baas  had 
only  time  to  stutter,  "  No  offence,  sir,  no  offence,"  before 
he  was  gone. 

When  he  returned  to  the  room  he  found  his  wife  at 
the  doorway,  telling  the  three  that  they  had  behaved  like 
fools.  She  was  so  sharp  and  shrewish  that  the  tinker 
Libbert,  in  greater  and  greater  embarrassment,  kept  shift- 
ing his  eyes  over  the  whole  length  of  the  wall,  up  and  then 
down  again.  Indeed,  he  couldn't  look  at  anything  really 
steadily  for  days  afterward.  And  the  old  man,  merely  to 
spite  his  daughter  and  provoke  her  further,  really  became 
a  little  more  agreeable.  Jan  Baas,  with  significant  ges- 
tures, many  times  repeated,  waved  away  the  minister  and 
the  day  forever. 

When  the  two  others  had  gone,  she  turned  to  her  hus- 
band contemptuously.  "  Well,  you  made  a  pretty  tale  of 
that!  You've  told  a  thousand  times  how  you  answered 
him  then,  —  and  now !  You  flabby  fellow !  You're  a  great 
hero  —  as  far  as   talk   goes.     That's   the   way  with   the 


12  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Baases  —  big  on  the  outside,  but  inside !  And  you're  the 
windiest  of  them  all." 

He  laughed,  partly  from  amusement,  partly  from  con- 
fusion, and  went  out  to  feed  the  cow. 

When  he  had  gone  she  took  the  baby,  just  baptized 
Klaus  Hinrich  Baas,  from  the  cradle,  turned  his  head, 
and  recognized  that  though  he  was  a  fine  baby,  he  cer- 
tainly had  that  trim,  overbearing  Baas  nose.  She  pinched 
it  forthwith  with  her  thumb  and  forefinger.  And  sitting 
there,  with  her  face,  as  usual,  tense  and  severe,  she  re- 
solved that  she  would  look  after  him  sharply  and  perhaps 
make  something  of  him  some  day. 


CHAPTER   II 

The  cradle  they  used  Antje  Baas  had  brought  with 
her  from  her  own  house  in  the  lonely  field,  where  it  had 
been  used  in  her  family  for  more  than  a  hundred  years. 
In  the  course  of  many  years  the  rockers  had  been  worn  a 
little  flat,  and  the  cradle  bumped  twice  on  every  swing. 
Their  old  neighbor  Griesbach  advised  them  to  get  new 
rockers,  for,  she  said,  she  hadn't  a  doubt  that  a  certain 
persistent  headstrong  tendency  in  Antje  Baas's  family  was 
the  direct  result  of  that  double  jolt.  She  reminded  Antje 
that  her  father  was  pretty  hard  to  get  along  with  ;  "  and 
then  you,"  she  added,  "you  yourself  are  not  exactly  easy 
to  manage."  Antje  Baas  was  bent  on  getting  new  run- 
ners at  once  ;  but  just  then  the  old  mustard  woman,  Wulf, 
who  had  the  reputation  of  being  very  knowing,  happened 
to  come  along.  "Let  the  cradle  be,  Antje!  "  she  advised. 
"  Who  knows  that  it  hasn't  shaken  all  kinds  of  vices  and 
weaknesses  out  of  the  child  ?  Remember  that  you  married 
a  Baas!"  Since  new  rockers  would  undoubtedly  cost 
money,  and  since  Antje  Baas  was  thoroughly  convinced 
of  the  essential  unworthiness  of  the  Baases,  the  old  rattle- 
trap cradle  remained  as  it  was,  and  the  baby  continued  to 
thrive  in  it. 

Soon  he  was  able  to  stumble  from  the  little  brown  room 
across  the  hall  to  the  kitchen.  But  when  he  discovered 
that  his  mother's  temper  was  easily  aroused,  and  that  she 
was  pretty  free  with  her  hands,  he  took  to  going  out  of 
the  house  toward  the  little  gate,  which  he  couldn't  open, 
where  he  waited  till  Peter  and  Lotte  came  home  from 
school.  When  they  came,  they  stayed  out  at  the  eldertree 
by  the  gate,  while  Lotte  cried  in  a  deep  voice,  "  What  is 
that  crawling  along  there  on  the  ground?  I  do  believe 
it's  a  little  dog  —  or  is  it  a  mouse  ?  "     Then,  pretending 

13 


14  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

to  discover  him  suddenly,  she  opened  the  gate  and  knelt 
before  him.  "  Why,  it's  a  little  boy  !  "  and  taking  him  by 
the  hand,  she  went  with  him  into  the  room. 

There  they  quickly  set  to  work  at  their  tasks,  the  baby 
sitting  between  them  and  looking  on.  Lotte  asked  him 
now  and  then,  "  Is  this  right,  sir  ?  "  And  when  he  nodded 
in  answer,  she  shook  his  hand  to  thank  him  for  helping 
her.  On  the  other  side  of  the  table  sat  brother  Peter, 
also  writing,  or  studying  with  his  hands  over  his  ears. 
He  kept  declaring  that  he  simply  couldn't  get  anything 
into  his  head,  and  whining,  "  Where  shall  I  even  begin  ? 
I'm  terribly  miserable  !  "  Many  a  time  he  cried,  and  rub- 
bing his  face  with  his  hands,  black  from  sharpening  his 
pencil,  moaned  again,  "I  am  so  stupid  —  oh,  how  stupid 
I  am !  "  At  this  Lotte  often  whispered,  "  That's  on  ac- 
count of  the  jolty  cradle."  Then  she  helped  her  brother, 
though  she  was  smaller  and  younger  than  he. 

Sometimes,  while  they  were  still  studying  and  writing, 
Peter,  as  usual,  dabbing  at  his  eyes,  their  father  came  home 
from  work.  In  came  the  great  blue-eyed,  j^ellow-bearded 
fellow,  placed  his  spade  in  the  corner,  stamped  the  mud 
off  his  big  boots,  and  reaching  for  the  baby,  took  him  on 
his  knee.  What  a  ride  he  did  have  then  —  up  and  down 
again  and  again  !  And  how  he  did  clutch  that  beard  and 
hold  on  tight !  What  a  face  his  father  made,  begging  him 
to  let  go  !  He  did  let  go  at  last,  proudly  opening  his  hand 
to  show  the  hair  he  had  pulled  out !  And  then !  Tlien 
came  mother,  with  the  big  black  iron  pan  in  which  the 
beans  were  cooking.  And  she  always  scolded  the  father : 
"  I  do  wish  you  had  a  little  more  common  sense!  "  And 
taking  the  boy  from  his  father's  knee,  she  put  him  by  the 
cradle,  which  already  held  another  little  chap,  and  sharply 
told  him  to  "rock  him." 

There  was  one  particularly  severe  winter.  He  was 
going  to  school  then,  but  he  came  home  earlier  than  the 
other  two  and  hurried  to  get  into  the  warm  room.  Run- 
ning from  one  window  to  the  other,  he  breathed  hard  on 
the  frost-covered  panes  to  make  clear  places.  Through 
one  of  them  he  could  look  down  the  street,  and  through 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  15 

the  other  out  over  the  marsh  as  far  as  the  Elbe.  He  could 
see  the  snow  driving  along  the  street  and  drifting  moun- 
tain-high against  the  walls  and  hedges;  and  then,  when 
the  snow  stopped,  and  the  air  was  clear  again,  he  ran  to 
the  other  window,  to  count  the  pillars  of  smoke  rising 
from  the  chimneys  in  the  marshland,  and  the  masts  on 
the  Elbe,  rising  above  the  dike.  Then  it  began  to  snow 
again,  and  finally  everything  was  covered  with  white  — 
the  roads,  and  the  great  field,  the  thatched  roofs,  and  the 
red  chimneys  on  the  schoolhouse  and  church ;  only  the 
old  poplars  around  the  church,  constantly  tossed  by  the 
wind,  were  dark.  Every  minute  the  boy  saw  something 
new,  and  each  time  he  turned  from  the  window  into  the 
little  brown  room  to  tell  his  father,  who  was  sitting  by 
the  stove  reading  the  newspaper  or  a  book  while  he  rocked 
the  cradle  with  his  foot.  But  then,  when  everything  was 
so  pleasant  and  comfortable  in  the  little  brown  room,  in 
came  the  mother,  to  nag  and  scold  the  father.  "  Why  in 
the  world  are  you  sitting  there  doing  nothing?"  she  said, 
or,  "  How  can  any  one  read  the  paper  so  long  ?  "  or,  "  For 
pity's  sake,  leave  off  that  silly  singing.  What  in  the 
world  will  the  child  think  of  it  ? "  And  she  came  in 
again  and  again.  The  first  few  times  the  father  laughed 
at  her  attacks  and  answered  her  jokingly;  but  finally  he 
said,  gravely  and  quietly,  "  If  you  come  in  here  again,  I 
shall  have  to  strike  you.  You  must  see  for  yourself  that 
I  can't  do  anything  else."  Then  she  turned  pale,  went 
out,  and  did  not  come  back,  and  there  was  peace  again  in 
the  little  brown  room.  The  little  fellow  couldn't  make 
much  of  all  this  yet,  but  he  grew  quiet. 

At  last  spring  came,  and  one  especially  bright  and  beau- 
tiful day.  His  father  came  home  from  the  field,  seized 
him,  when  he  went  to  meet  him,  and  swung  him  up  till 
his  face  brushed  against  the  cherry  blossoms  hanging  from 
a  little  tree.  When  he  shrank  away  from  the  bees  buzz- 
ing among  the  blossoms,  liis  father  raised  him  and  shifted 
him  about  till  his  face  was  close  to  a  great  big  bumblebee. 
And  then  there  was  the  greatest  shrieking  and  laughing 
imaginable.     When  the  mother  came  out  of  the  house  to 


16  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

scold  them,  they  both  sat  down  very  properly  on  the  bench 
beside  the  doo-r  and  gazed  away  over  the  broad  fields  to 
the  ships  moving  along  the  Elbe.  And  when,  as  they  sat 
there,  they  began  to  hum  away  to  themselves,  the  mother 
came  out  again,  scolding:  "  What  will  people  think  of 
you  sitting  there  singing  on  the  very  street  ?  I  can't  bear 
to  hear  it,"  she  said,  slamming  the  front  door,  which  had 
been  standing  wide  open.  Getting  up,  the  father  opened 
the  door  and  went  on  humming.  They  heard  the  mother 
coming  out  at  once  from  the  kitchen  to  close  the  door. 
The  father  got  up,  opened  it  again,  and  went  on  hum- 
ming. When  the  mother,  hastening  out  from  the  kitchen 
again,  reached  the  door,  the  father  sprang  up,  seized  her 
on  the  threshold,  and  hugged  and  kissed  her.  Quite 
overwhelmed,  she  stood  still,  saying  gently,  in  a  tone 
of  sweet  surprise,  which  the  boy  had  never  heard  be- 
fore, "You're  so  sudden,  Jan!"  And  then  she  broke 
away,  saying  in  her  old  harsh,  angry  way :  "  Let  me  go. 
Everybody  can  see  us."  Laughingly  the  father  let  her  go. 
The  boy  marvelled  about  his  mother,  shook  his  head  wisely, 
and  wrinkling  his  brow,  said  to  his  father,  "  She's  always 
making  such  a  fuss,  father ! " 

Then  came  autumn,  and  with  it  a  day  of  keen  and  clear 
west  wind,  blowing  as  if  it  would  blow  away  the  world. 
Klaus  and  his  crony,  their  hands  in  their  trousers  pockets, 
stood  at  the  neighbor's  open  door,  watching  the  cabinet- 
maker. When  they  had  made  up  their  minds  that  the 
man  was  in  a  good  humor,  they  came  nearer  and  nearer,  un- 
til they  were  standing  right  in  the  middle  of  the  shop.  He 
called  out  to  ask  them  whether  they  would  like  to  see 
something  that  no  one  had  ever  seen  before.  They  came 
in,  open-eyed,  a  little  uncertainly,  for  the  cabinet-maker 
was  sometimes  a  terror  and  sometimes  a  joker.  Taking 
the  wood  through  which  the  saw  had  just  passed,  he 
showed  them  the  freshly  sawed  surface.  "  That,"  he  said, 
"not  a  single  soul  has  ever  seen  before."  They  nodded 
gravely,  and  then  went  into  the  corner  where  the  shavings 
lay  in  heaps,  to  get  some  of  the  big,  hard,  curly  ones  to 
make  wheels  of. 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  17 

There  was  a  strong-  wind  sweeping^  along  down  the  broad 
road  like  water  through  a  sluice.  They  started  the  wheel 
—  the  wind  caught  it  at  once  —  and  now  for  a  chase ! 
How  it  sped!  How  they  sped  with  it!  The  teacher  had 
said  at  school  that  God  runs  faster  than  the  fastest 
horse.  Well,  let  him  just  run  like  that!  They  chased 
along  behind  it,  far  out  into  the  open  field. 

In  the  meadow  at  the  side  they  found  a  young  fellow 
ploughing.  Taking  courage,  they  climbed  over  the  dry 
ditches  and  followed  him  along  the  furrows  while  he  told 
them  how  old  Whiteface  there  on  the  left  had  sat  down 
in  the  ditch  yesterday  ;  and  that  he  was  going  to  Hamburg 
one  of  these  days  with  a  couple  of  horses;  and  that  his 
sister,  who  lived  in  Hamburg,  was  about  to  marry  a  sailor 
who  had  been  around  the  world  twice  already.  They 
walked  along  behind  him,  listening  to  him,  sometimes 
leaning  out  to  look  ahead  at  the  stubbly  gray  earth  as  it 
rose  under  the  gleaming  ploughshare  and  then  fell  into  a 
dark  heap  beside  it,  and  sometimes  looking  back  at  the 
sea-gulls  flying  in  flocks  over  the  fresh  furrows,  gleaming 
white  and  fluttering  against  the  blue  of  the  sky. 

And  when  they  had  had  enough  of  this,  they  went  on 
over  the  fields  to  seek  new  adventures.  They  commented 
with  the  greatest  assurance  on  everything  they  saw:  the 
sucking  colt  standing  beside  its  mother  ;  the  wheat,  which 
had  too  many  weeds;  the  orange  lilies  in  the  ditch;  who 
the  workman  was,  walking  over  there  in  the  field,  and 
whose  wagon  it  was,  standing  .under  the  sails  of  the  wind- 
mill. In  this  way,  now  along  green  roads,  now  across 
fields,  they  gradually  approached  the  village  again,  hot 
with  running,  looking,  and  talking.  They  caught  sight 
of  a  group  of  children  standing  beside  the  pond  in  one  of 
the  farm-yards.  What  did  that  mean  ?  They  must  get 
there  !  Klaus's  chum  thought  it  was  time  to  be  getting 
home,  but  Klaus  didn't  hear.  When  they  got  there,  they 
saw  that  the  pond  had  been  drained  and  that  the  back  of 
a  fish  was  sticking  up  here  and  there  from  the  mud  cover- 
ing the  bottom.  Wide-eyed,  Klaus  stepped  closer  to  see 
what  that  fish  there  looked  like,  and  that  one,  and  that 


18  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

one  over  there.  And  heaven  only  knew  what  else  might 
come  out  of  those  depths  !  Then  some  men  waded  in, 
caught  the  fish,  and  threw  them  out  on  the  bank  at  the 
side.  There,  glittering  all  silver  and  gold  in  the  green 
grass,  they  flopped  about  till  they  were  gathered  up 
in  pails.  Klaus  stood,  and  ran,  and  stood  still  again, 
staring  down  into  the  black  slime,  his  cheeks  glowing  and 
his  eyes  beaming.  The  older  boys  were  saying,  "  Young- 
ster, you  Klaas  Hinrich,  you'd  better  hurry  home ;  your 
father's  still  in  the  field,  and  you  know  what  your  moth-er's 
like."  But  he  didn't  even  hear.  At  last,  at  twilight,  he 
went  toward  the  high  field,  sunburned,  blowsy,  and  worn 
out  with  play,  but  happily  recalling  in  a  state  of  beautiful 
peacefulness  all  the  images  of  the  day.  When  he  came 
near  home  he  started,  woke  up  from  his  dreams,  and 
turned  pale  with  fear,  for  his  mother  was  coming  to  meet 
him,  usually  with  the  fire-tongs,  crying,  "  I'll  drive  the 
Baas  out  of  you,  do  you  hear  ?  You're  the  very  worst 
one  !  "  And  so,  with  many  a  hard  blow,  she  drove  him 
into  the  house.  Yet  he  had  certainly  not  bought  it  too 
dearly  —  for  what  a  time  he  had  had  ! 

Soon  the  limits  of  the  fields  became  too  small  for  him 
and  his  friends,  and  they  travelled  over  field  and  heath  to 
the  wood,  where  they  found  everything  nev/  and  wonderful; 
the  tall  broom,  the  brook  running  along  beside  the  roots 
of  the  young  birches,  a  bright  bird  in  the  bushes  that  they 
had  never  seen  before,  the  huts  of  the  peat-diggers,  and  a 
snake  crawling  along  the  bank.  And  as  they  walked  along 
the  edge  of  the  wood,  they  spied  a  village  they  had  never 
seen  before,  and  of  which  they  didn't  even  know  the  name. 
Standing  on  the  bank  and  looking  over  toward  it,  they 
began  a  lively  discussion,  about  which  house  was  most 
likely  to  be  the  school,  and  whether  there  were  many  big 
boys  there,  and  whether  they  shouldn't  go  nearer.  And 
then  behold,  the  big  boys  and  the  dogs  came  straight  out 
toward  tliem,  and  from  a  distance  there  was  a  great 
quarrel  back  and  forth.  Then  they  set  off  for  home,  hurl- 
ing stones  and  large  words  behind  them  as  they  ran.  And 
Klaus,  with  every  sense  strained,  and  with  his  head  full 


KLAUS   IIINRICH   BAAS  19 

of  being  arrested,  overtaken,  and  captured,  of  escaping 
"through  the  airhole  and  of  being  ransomed,  at  last,  after 
passing  through  a  tliousand  dangers,  finally  reached  the 
boundaries  of  the  home  field,  where  he  camped  on  his  last 
rampart,  quite  sated  with  adventure.  The  returning  Colum- 
bus could  not  have  been  more  so. 

After  this  autumn  came  the  winter  again,  with  long 
weeks  of  clear  frost.  The  first  thing  in  the  dark  winter 
mornings  they  put  on  their  skates  and  skated  along  the 
streets  to  school,  no  matter  how  rough  it  was.  And  when 
they  got  there  they  kept  on  their  skates,  scratching  up  the 
floor  completely.  They  went  directly  from  the  school 
yard  down  to  the  river,  where  they  sped  to  and  fro  over 
the  wide  stretches  covered  with  snow,  chased  by  the  cold 
east  wind,  which  had  full  sweep  over  the  field,  and  skating 
now  on  clear,  now  on  snow-covered  ice,  past  farms,  past 
villages,  until  they  came  nearer  and  nearer  and  still 
nearer  the  tall  dike  that  lay  so  very  far  away.  And 
finally  they  reached  it.  Then  clambering  ashore,  they 
climbed  the  wall  with  difficulty,  and  went  on  down  to  the 
ships  which  lay  in  winter  quarters  in  the  little  harbor 
below  the  dike.  They  climbed  around  on  them  for  a 
while,  looking  out  far  and  wide  upon  the  great  broken  fields 
of  ice,  and  far,  far  out  upon  the  great  stream  in  which 
the  icebergs  were  slowly  driving  seaward. 

Then  they  turned  back,  and  oh,  how  the  cold  sharp 
wind  struck  against  them  !  How  their  cheeks  and  hands 
glowed  !  How  dazzled  their  -eyes  were  !  How  stiff  and 
tired  their  legs  !  How  the  stars  came  out  and  sparkled  in 
the  dark  blue  sky!  They  must  be  very  careful  not  to 
stumble;  a  hole  in  the  skin  wouldn't  hurt  anything,  —  it 
would  heal  without  a  doctor  and  without  expense,  —  but 
for  a  hole  in  their  stockings  there  would  be  a  whipping  to 
pay.  What  a  crackling  out  there  on  the  ice  !  Listen  — 
how  far  and  clear  it  sounds  through  the  night!  What  a 
rumbling  underneath  !  Heaven  only  knows  what's  under 
it!  Are  those  lights  over  there  the  lights  of  our  village  ? 
Yes,  they  really  are  —  thank  heaven,  we're  home  !  Wasn't 
that  fine  !  That  light  is  the  light  in  the  room  —  oh,  heavens, 


20  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

now  there's  something  else  to  be  thinking  of  !  Honestly, 
I'll  never  come  back  so  late  again!  He  slid  up  to  the 
kitchen  window,  where  Lotte  was  standing  alone,  on  the 
lookout.  "Come  in  quick,  you  rascal,"  she  says.  "Our 
neighbor's  here.  Mother's  going  to  make  her  a  new 
dress.  I've  told  them  you  were  in  bed  already.  Hurry 
in,  quick." 

Spring  and  summer  came  again,  a  summer  full,  as  it 
seemed  to  him  later,  only  of  silent  golden  days.  Among 
his  companions  he  continued  to  stand  out  strongly ;  and 
although  he  was  younger  than  they,  he  always  took  the 
lead  on  account  of  his  greater  energy  and  lordliness. 
The  days  were  passed  at  school  and  iu  work  in  the  field ; 
but,  oh,  those  evenings  of  happy,  excited  play,  when  he 
went  down  the  street  to  find  the  boys  sitting  waiting  on 
the  old  low  wall  under  the  tall  dark  poplars  beside  the 
church.  Then  they  proceeded  to  divide  the  world 
among  them,  he  always  demanding  Russia,  and  always 
getting  it.  What  an  immense  realm  his  was,  taking  in 
all  the  land  north  of  the  church  clear  up  to  the  broad 
meadow,  over  which  the  evening  mist  was  already  dense. 
How  mighty  he  was  and  how  despotic  a  ruler  !  How  he 
stormed  along  with  his  four,  nay,  five  regiments  of  Cos- 
sacks out  of  the  mist  and  darkness,  over  the  low  wall 
covered  with  its  round  stones,  over  the  sunken  graves, 
and  at  last,  with  a  wild  shout,  toward  Pastor  Jensen's 
old  open  vault,  in  which  the  enemy,  with  their  wives  and 
children,  were  making  their  last  stand!  How  the  girls 
shrieked  when  they  saw  his  zeal  and  the  fire  in  his  eye  I 
Even  Lotte's  bright  little  face  showed  real  horror  for  just 
a  moment ;  and  Liese  Lachmann,  who  was  naturally 
flighty  and  irrepressible,  shrieked  as  if  she  were  pos- 
sessed. 

Gradually,  as  they  played  thus,  the  darkness  came  on. 
And  then  they  sat  silent  and  weary  on  the  low  wall,  while 
the  evening  colors  grew  more  sombre,  and  all  the  open 
places  grew  bigger,  and  the  many  dark  bushes,  the  trees, 
the  corners,  and  the  old  poplars  grew  darker  still.  The 
shadow  cast  by  Pastor  Jensen's  vault  stood  like  a  great 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  21 

black  gate,  and  over  the  graves  sounded  the  clear  voices 
of  the  girls  calling  a  boy's  name.  Suddenly  some  one 
declared  that  a  light  had  just  gleamed  in  the  high  church 
windows,  just  as  if  there  were  a  light  on  the  altar,  and 
they  all  sat  very  still  looking  over  toward  it.  And  their 
eyes  never  saw  so  far  as  they  saw  then  in  that  twilight, 
never  saw  so  clearly  as  they  saw  in  that  darkness. 

Gradually  the  lights  came  out  in  the  streets.  Here 
and  there  from  the  houses  they  heard  their  mothers  call- 
ing. Klaus,  however,  simply  couldn't  go  home  now,  when 
it  was  all  so  wonderful,  and  so  he  was  almost  atways  too 
late.  Several  times,  when  they  carried  on  their  play  after 
it  grew  dark,  his  mother  pulled  him  off  his  noble  steed 
before  the  very  eyes  of  his  Cossack  regiments.  His 
cheeks  were  glowing  and  his  eyes  gleaming  brightly, 
when  suddenly  he  caught  sight  of  her  coming  with  the 
tongs.  He  looked  confusedly  around  him  and  then 
leaped  toward  home  to  escape  her. 

In  the  autumn  Peter  had  to  go  into  the  confirmation 
class.  With  his  fingers  in  his  ears,  he  sprawled  halfway 
over  the  table,  repeating  texts  and  verses  innumerable 
betAveen  his  groans.  They  made  him  recite  them  con- 
stantly, but  that  didn't  help  much  either.  Another  cross 
was  that  he  had  to  compl}^  with  the  old  custom  of  writing 
a  bit  of  verse,  for  memory's  sake,  in  all  his  comrades' 
albums.  Growling  and  scolding,  and  sometimes  even  cry- 
ing with  rage,  he  wrote  the  same  thing  in  every  book  :  — 

Roses,  tulips,  pinks  may  fade. 
Every  flower  that  blooms  may  fade, 
My  love  fadeth  not. 

He  was  the  unhappiest  fellow  that  ever  lived,  he  declared, 
and  if  he  ever  got  rid  of  school  he  would  never  take  hold 
of  a  pen  again. 

The  weather  was  bad,  and  Klaus  and  Lotte,  finding 
time  heavy  on  their  hands,  often  wished  they  had  a  book 
to  read.  Once,  when  they  were  in  the  middle  of  a  very 
lively  discussion,  their  mother  came  in  and  asked  curtly 
what  business  they  had  with  books. 


22  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

"  Well,"  said  their  father,  "  books  don't  mean  much  to 
Peter,  and  Lotte  is  just  a  girl,  but  Klaus  has  a  good  head, 
and  he's  got  the  inclination,  too." 

Antje  Baas  laughed  scornfully.  "  He  !  "  she  said,  "  he 
knows  how  to  play.  He  can  do  that  —  and  he  can't  do 
anything  else.  He'll  be  exactly  what  you  are,  —  a  day 
laborer." 

One  morning  several  weeks  later  his  mother  woke  hira 
long  before  it  was  light  to  send  him  with  the  coffee  into 
the  field  where  his  father  had  been  cutting  beans  all 
night  for  his  employer. 

"  Just  be  careful  not  to  spill  that  coffee,"  she  said  in 
her  short,  jerky  way  as  she  sent  him  off.  Klaus  had 
never  been  out  alone  in  quite  so  dark  a  dawn,  and  he  was 
a  good  deal  frightened,  but  he  went  on  and  on,  peering 
over  the  dark  fields,  standing  still  now  and  then  to  look 
behind  him,  holding  his  breath  and  trembling  violently 
whenever  he  heard  a  crow  caw  or  a  chain  strike  against  a 
horseshoe,  and  prepared  for  all  kinds  of  horrors.  If  he 
were  only  there! 

Suddenly  he  heard  swift  steps  behind  him.  Terror- 
stricken,  he  turned  around,  to  see  a  huge  strange  form 
bearing  uncertainly  down  on  him  through  the  dark  mist, 
and  calling  loudly. 

He  put  the  pot  of  coffee  down  in  the  grass  and  ran  as 
fast  as  he  could,  but  the  monster  was  swifter  than  he. 
What  heavy  footsteps  —  regular  elephant  feet!  What  a 
tremendous  mouth!  What  an  unearthly  voice!  His 
blood  sucked  out!  Gobbled  up  alive!  Nothing  left  of 
him  but  white  bones,  which  father  and  Lotte  would  find 
and  weep  over!     Great  horror  through  the  whole  country! 

Suddenly  he  heard  the  spectre  call  his  name,  and  he 
recognized  the  voice  of  his  mother.  His  mother!  She 
had  hurried  after  him  to  give  him  the  bread  which  she 
had  forgot.  She  tried  to  shake  out  the  terror  that  still 
showed  in  his  face,  and  when  she  saw  that  it  wouldn't 
yield,  she  stroked  his  head  hastily,  saying  loudly  and 
angrily,  though  with  a  certain  gentleness,  too:  "You're  a 
great   Cossack  general,  you  are!     You're  just  the  same 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  23 

kind  of  a  hero  your  father  is."  Then  she  took  his  hand 
and  led  him  on. 

«/Soon  tliey  saw  the  great  dark  beanfield,  covered  with 
short  bhick  sheaves,  and  in  the  distance  the  father  and 
his  comrades  at  work.  As  they  came  nearer,  the  men 
stopped  working,  and  pulling  on  their  coats,  sat  down  in 
a  circle  on  the  sheaves  they  had  just  cut. 

As  the  morning  wind  came  up,  it  grew  bitter  cold. 
Klaus  plunged  his  hands  deep  in  his  coat  pockets  and  pressed 
his  knees  close  together,  looking  up  at  his  father,  who, 
wet  to  the  knees,  dead  sleepy,  and  exhausted  from  the  hard 
night's  work,  was  eating  his  bread  with  his  black  hands. 

They  ate  for  a  while  in  silence.  Then  the  father  said: 
"  We've  been  talking  about  Hamburg  all  night,  Antje. 
It's  being  built  up  immensely,  house  after  house,  and 
people  there  are  earning  four  marks  a  day.  What  would 
you  say  to  our  going?  Timmerman  has  a  cousin  living 
there  who  works  in  a  coal  yard,  and  his  boy  goes  to  the 
high  school.  If  we  were  getting  along  here,  I'd  say  we'd 
better  stay  right  here.  But  as  it  is,  why  should  we? 
Who  can  tell  whether  we  might  not  get  along  better 
there,  or  whetlier  our  children  mightn't,  anyway  ?  " 

Antje  Baas  knew  Hamburg  only  from  hearsay.  Reckon- 
ing that  she  might  make  more  there  with  her  sewing,  and 
that  the  children  might  in  some  way  get  up  in  the  world 
a  little,  she  said  bluntly,  "  You'll  never  get  us  along  very 
fast  —  you're  a  Baas,  once  and  for  all." 

Jan  Baas  laughed,  saying  to  "the  men,  "  That  just  means 
she  isn't  against  it." 

Klaus  Hinrich  forgot  the  severe  cold,  sitting  open- 
mouthed  and  wide-eyed  on  the  wet  sheaves,  and  seeing 
horses  and  golden  armor,  brilliance  and  wonder.  "  Father ! " 
he  cried  in  a  low  excited  voice,  "  come !  right  away !  let's 
go  there!  " 

Antje  Baas,  looking  at  him,  saw  straight  through  him. 
"  I  know  well  enough  what's  moving  ?/ow,"  she  said  in 
angry  contempt.  "Your  father  shall  stay  here,  and  so 
shall  you.  I  won't  be  the  laughing-stock  of  all  Hamburg 
on  your  account." 


CHAPTER   III 

The  old  railway  station  near  the  Klostertor  in  Ham- 
burg—  is  there  a  citizen  of  Hamburg  anywhere  that  does 
not  cherish  its  image,  vividly  recalling  the  hideous  un- 
tidiness of  its  rooms,  its  worn  floors  and  its  sunken  sills, 
its  sagging  doors  and  its  hanging  shutters  ?  What  throngs, 
nay,  hosts,  of  people  have  passed  through  that  station, 
many  of  them  right  happily,  —  students  from  the  north,  let 
us  say,  bound  for  Jena  and  Heidelberg,  or  young  girls, 
daughters  of  the  well-to-do,  off  to  see  the  wonders  of  the 
world  —  Berlin,  or  the  Alps,  or  perhaps  even  Italy ;  through 
it  have  passed,  too,  many  of  the  placidly  successful,  bound 
on  quiet  business  or  comfortable  recreation.  And  yet  — 
the  number  of  these  is  small  enough,  compared  with  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  simple  folk  who  have  passed  along 
its  dirty,  blackened  walls  and  stepped  over  its  worn  thres- 
holds for  a  little  rest.  Loaded  clown  with  bag  and  bag- 
gage, they  have  stood  and  sat  in  and  around  the  ugly  place, 
seeing,  wide-eyed,  images  of  the  home  they  have  left  and 
visions  of  the  unknown  future.  Who  can  imagine  the 
pictures  that  these  great  throngs  saw  as  they  sat  there? 
Over  these  sunken  thresholds  have  trod  men  from  Prussia, 
from  Saxony,  from  Holstein;  the  best  men  in  Mecklen- 
burg have  passed  through  here  twice;  Poles  and  Jews  and 
Slavs  without  number,  all  breaking  awa}^  with  difficulty 
from  the  home  land,  all  called  forth  first  by  the  cry,  "  Land! 
Here  there  is  land!"  and  secondly  by  the  call  of  the  world's 
commerce,  into  the  mad  chase  of  which  we  slow,  silent 
country  people  are  now  being  surely  drawn. 

Jan  Baas  had  gone  ahead  to  look  for  the  friend  that  was 
to  take  them  to  the  house  that  they  had  rented,  and  his 
wife  and  Lotte,  each  leading  one  of  the  little  ones,  had 

24 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  25 

gone  to  get  a  drink.  Peter,  who  had  not  wanted  to  come 
to  Hamburg  with  them,  had  stayed  behind  and  gone  into 
service  with  the  farmer  on  whose  fields  his  father  and 
grandfather  had  both  worked.  So  only  Klaus  was  stand- 
ing guard  by  the  two  great  bundles  done  up  in  bedding 
beside  the  wall.  He  sat  there  between  the  two  big 
plump  packs  on  a  little  pile  of  old  yellow  books  —  an 
old  lot  of  classics  which  a  student  cousin  had  presented 
to  his  mother  when  she  was  young,  and  which  she  had 
always  kept  under  look  and  key.  She  hadn't  been  able 
to  tuck  them  in  the  bundles  anywhere.  And  as  he  sat 
there,  Klaus  gazed  at  the  procession  passing  by,  wagon 
after  wagon. 

Several  porters,  standing  around,  saw  Klaus  and  came 
up  to  him.  One  of  them,  attracted  by  the  way  the  boy 
was  gazing  spellbound  out  into  the  new  world,  said, 
"  Well,  now,  you've  got  a  good  place  there,  haven't  you?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Klaus,  with  the  grave  wisdom  of  the  country 
boy,  "I've  got  a  good  place  here." 

They  went  on  joking.  "  Well,  what  kind  of  books  are 
those  you're  sitting  on?" 

"  Grand  books,"  said  Klaus,  gravely,  as  if  he  were  talk- 
ing of  fine  big  horses. 

"  Then  you're  going  to  be  a  scholar,  are  you?" 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Klaus,  "  if  I  have  brains  enough,"  look- 
ing at  them  solemnly. 

"What's  your  father?" 

"A  laborer." 

One  sympathetic  fellow  patted  him  on  the  head,  and 
said,  "Well,  then,  you're  to  be  a  senator,  do  you  hear?" 

Klaus  nodded  slowly  again,  and  they  went  off  smiling. 

Then  his  mother  and  Lotte  came  back,  turned  over  the 
two  bundles  and  sat  down  on  them,  each  taking  one  of  the 
youngsters  on  her  lap.  Klaus  sat  between  them,  still  on 
the  books. 

Antje  Baas  didn't  at  all  like  sitting  there  in  full  view  of 
so  many  passers-by,  many  of  whom  cast  curious  glances  at 
them.  She  looked  straight  ahead  of  her,  now  and  then 
muttering   resentfully  at   her   husband,  the   rascal,   who 


26  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

hadn't  come  back.  In  her  anger  and  weariness  she  began 
to  pinch  little  Hanna's  nose  up  and  dov/n  again  and  again. 

Two  well-dressed,  elderly  men,  who  were  standing  there 
waiting  for  the  train,  kept  looking  at  them  especially. 
One  of  them  came  nearer  to  ask  curiously  why  she  was 
doing  that.  She  drew  herself  up  and  answered  angrily: 
"  What  business  is  that  of  yours  ?  You  take  care  of  your 
own  nose!"  The  man  drew  back  with  an  embarrassed 
smile. 

Then  the  other  one  came  up  kindly  and  said :  "  I'm  glad 
you  shut  him  up  that  way.  Why  does  he  busy  himself 
with  other  people's  noses?  Now  won't  you  let  me  give 
your  little  boy  sitting  there  on  the  books  five  groschen?" 

With  a  gesture  of  refusal,  Antje  Baas  answered  shortly: 
"Do  you  take  us  for  beggars?  Keep  your  money. 
Maybe  you  need  it  more  than  we  do."  The  little  fellow 
on  the  books  also  said,  with  a  shake  of  his  head,  "We 
never  take  presents." 

So  he  too  went  off. 

Finally  Jan  Baas  came  around  the  corner  only  to  say 
that  the  friend  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"  That's  just  what  I  expected,"  said  Antje.  "  It  always 
happens  that  way  when  you  manage  anything.  Get  up 
—  we'll  start  off  without  him." 

She  took  hold  of  the  youngsters  more  firmly  and  started 
out.  Behind  her  came  Lotte,  holding  little  Hanna.  Then 
came  the  father,  with  a  bundle  under  each  arm.  Last  of 
all  came  Klaus  with  the  books,  which  he  held  now  in  one 
arm,  now  in  the  other,  or  at  times,  more  comfortably,  in 
front  of  him.  He  stared  curiously  on  all  sides,  stood  still 
to  look  around  him,  and  then  caught  up  to  the  bundles  by 
a  short  little  trot. 

It  appeared  that  they  should  have  got  out  of  the  train 
sooner.  They  had  to  ask  a  lot  of  questions,  and  it  was  a 
long  way  back.  They  reached  the  Alsterdamm,  and  went 
along  the  Jungfernstieg  toward  the  Rathausmarkt. 
There  Jan  Baas  stood  still  under  the  trees  —  the  Kaiser 
monument  was  not  there  then  —  turned  deliberately 
around  with  his  bundles,  and  gazed  out  over  the  whole 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  27 

throng  of  men.  It  was  just  time  for  the  openi-ng  of  the 
Exchange,  and  both  sides  of  the  court-house  were  black 
with  men  passing  to  and  fro.  "  Klaus,"  said  Jan,  "just 
look  at  those  men.  Why,  not  one  of  them  has  a  spade  or 
a  tool  or  a  horse,  or  anything  like  that  —  they  all  seem  to 
be  got  up  just  as  human  beings,  —  but  we  can't  live  just 
off  of  folks,  can  we  ?  " 

Klaus  Baas  looked  out  over  the  pile  of  books  in  front  of 
his  chest.  "  Why,  do  you  know,  father,  they're  all  keeping 
Sunday." 

Jan  Baas  wasn't  so  sure.  "  They  would  be  walking 
more  slowly,"  he  was  inclined  to  think.  "Just  look  ! 
they're  fairly  stepping  on  each  other's  heels.  They  are 
certainly  out  on  business." 

Klaus  thought  so  too,  now.  "  Do  you  know,  father," 
he  said,  "  do  you  know  what  I  think  ?  They  are  going  to 
the  harbor,  or  else  coming  from  it,  and  they  have  their 
goods  stored  there." 

Jan  Baas  shook  his  head,  astounded,  turned  slowly 
around  and  walked  on,  followed  by  Klaus. 

They  went  along  up  the  Alter  Steinweg,  till  they  came 
to  the  Grossneumarkt.  There,  weary  with  walking  and 
carrying  heavy  bundles,  and  speechless  at  the  houses  and 
people,  they  had  to  sit  down  and  rest  a  while  beside  the 
tables  and  booths  of  the  hustling  venders.  Jan  Baas  went 
ahead  to  iind  the  street  and  the  house. 

While  Klaus  was  sitting  there  on  his  books,  he  saw  a 
boy  about  his  own  age  with  a  pointed  little  brown  face, 
in  disreputable  old  clothes,  standing  at  one  of  the  tables, 
comfortably  chatting  with  a  vender.  Happening  to  turn 
around  and  see  Klaus  sitting  there,  he  came  over.  He 
was  distinctly  bow-legged,  and  he  had  his  hands  stuck  in 
his  jacket,  which  was  torn  halfway  up. 

"  Well,  and  where  do  you  want  to  go  ? "  he  asked 
patronizingly. 

"  We're  looking  for  our  house,"  answered  Klaus. 

Touching  the  books  with  the  tip  of  his  worn  old  shoe, 
the  boy  said,  "What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that 
truck?" 


28  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

Klaus  renounced  the  whole  classic  world,  as  he  answered 
indifferently,  "  Oh,  we  had  them  at  home,  so  I  brought 
them  along." 

The  boy  nodded  toward  a  table  at  the  side,  on  which 
heaps  of  old  books  were  lying.  "  Get  rid  of  them  there," 
he  said. 

The  country  boy  gravely  shook  his  head.  "  We  haven't 
anything  to  sell,"  he  said. 

The  boy  liked  Klaus's  cool,  businesslike  air,  which  was 
quite  as  impressive  as  his  own  street  experience.  "  What's 
your  name?  "  he  asked. 

"  My  name  is  Klaus  Hinrich  Baas,"  said  Klaus,  clearly 
and  circumstantially. 

"  Well,"  said  his  brown-checked  acquaintance,  a  little 
puzzled  at  Klaus's  seriousness  and  dignity,  "mine  is  Kalli 
Dau.  We  have  a  flower  shop  over  there  —  see  it  ?  there 
beside  the  coal  yards.  There's  nothing  the  matter  with 
my  family.  My  stepfather  is  a  regular  bum,  and  my 
mother  is  always  buying  herself  silk  waists." 

All  this  terrified  Klaus  Baas,  but  he  managed  to  hide  it, 
and  said  gravely  and  hesitatingly:  "  This  is  my  family 
here.  We're  going  to  live  on  the  corner  of  Rademachers- 
gang  —  do  you  know  where  that  is  ?  " 

"  Yes,  up  there  where  we  live,"  said  Kalli  Dau,  with 
his  one-sided  nod.  And  with  that  he  turned  back  to  his 
friend  the  vender. 

His  father  came  back,  and  they  started  off  again,  his 
mother  again  in  the  lead.  In  a  little  while  she  stopped 
to  look  up  at  the  number  of  a  certain  house,  and  then 
leaned  forward  and  peered  into  the  dark  door.  She  half 
turned  to  Lotte,  and  said  sharpl}',  "  I  guess  they  only 
clean  here  once  a  week."  Then,  with  a  hasty  motion, 
she  threw  back  her  head,  as  if  to  collect  all  the  courage 
and  defiance  she  possessed,  and  went  into  the  dark  entry. 

Next  morning  their  mother  sent  them  straight  off  to 
school,  "  You  be  sure  to  behave  now,"  she  said  as  they 
went  off,  raising  her  hand  threateningly.  They  went 
down  the  two  flights  of  steps,  and  started  off  up  the 
street,  Lotte  ahead.     There  came  a  cab !     Why  did  the 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  29 

coachman  wear  such  a  funny  hat?  And  there  stood  a 
policeman  —  what  was  he  doing  standing  there  ?  Wasn't 
everybod}'  going  quietly  about  his  business?  There  came 
a  postman  —  mercy,  how  many  steps  he  had  to  climb ! 
That  was  a  striking  fellow  in  the  fur  cap  and  strange 
high  boots  walking  proudly  along,  —  now  where  could  he 
have  come  from?  But  that  man,  the  one  behind  him, 
why,  he  might  be  a  farmer  from  home.  Klaus  had  to 
stand  still  to  look  at  both  of  them.  Now,  on  again !  He 
ran  into  a  fat  old  woman,  spilling  the  groceries  she  was 
carrying.  She  gave  a  startled  shriek,  and  said,  "You 
must  be  from  the  country,  boy !  Can't  you  see  people 
coming?" 

And  in  school  there  were  such  crowds  and  crowds  of 
children  —  what  a  lot  of  different  faces !  And  what  a 
queer  way  of  talking  some  of  them  had  !  And  no  one 
concerned  himself  about  him,  Klaus  Baas.  In  came  the 
teacher,  a  tall  thin  man  in  high,  tight  shiny  boots  —  oh, 
what  boots !  There  had  been  nothing  like  them  in  the 
village.  Klaus  sat  straight  and  still,  wondering  why  the 
teacher  didn't  take  over  his  knee  a  whole  row  of  rascals, 
who  were  either  purposely  making  a  noise  with  their 
slates,  or  poking  each  other  in  the  ribs  with  their  pencils. 
Klaus  was  terribly  excited,  and  was  constantly  expecting 
a  dreadful  scene  to  occur  at  any  moment.  He  tried  by 
bright  looks  and  quick  answers  to  divert  the  teacher's 
attention.  The  teacher  soon  noticed  and  commended  him. 
"You've  had  a  good  teacher  in  your  home  village,  and 
you've  paid  good  attention,  too,"  he  said.  That  pleased 
Klaus,  and  it  also  laid  him  under  an  obligation.  He  con- 
tinued to  pay  attention,  to  look  up  brightly,  and  to  ansvv^er 
quickly. 

At  recess  time,  when  they  all  trooped  down  the  steps 
into  the  little  playground,  where  they  stood  still  or  whirled 
in  and  out  in  little  groups,  Klaus  stood  up  by  the  wall, 
quite  confused  by  the  sight  of  the  running,  whirling  crowd. 
Five  or  six  of  them  surrounded  him,  and  said,  "  Come  on, 
now,  make  some  more  o'  them  bright  eyes  I  "  They  didn't 
harm  him,  however. 


30        •  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

When  school  was  out,  Kalli  Dau  attached  himself  to 
Klaus  with  a  proposition  :  "  What  are  you  going  home 
for  already?     Come  along!" 

Klaus  was  afraid  of  his  mother's  scolding  and  whipping. 
The  entire  neighborhood  of  St.  Pauli,  about  which  she 
had  heard  some  things  she  didn't  like,  she  had  condemned 
utterly,  absolutely  forbidding  him,  once  and  for  all,  to  go 
there.  She  had  held  up  the  old  tongs,  and  said,  in  her 
threatening  way,  "  You  be  careful,  now,  to  keep  away  from 
St.  Pauli,  or  I'll  beat  the  life  out  of  you."  But  the  rest 
of  the  city  was  not  expressly  forbidden,  and  his  desire  for 
the  new  life  was  tremendous.  So  away  he  went  with  - 
Kalli  Dau  —  always  lagging  behind  a  little,  like  a  prudent  / 
countryman.  ^ 

Kalli  Dau  had  friends  all  along  the  line  —  on  the  Alter  -^ 
Steinweg,  a  woman  standing  in  front  of  a  cellar  full  of 
potatoes,  cabbages,  and  beets ;  in  the  Grossneumarkt,  the 
venders,  or  a  drunken  lout  standing  in  front  of  a  pothouse 
on  the  square.  Hungr}',  bow-legged,  in  his  second-hand 
clothes,  he  stopped  to  talk  to  all  these  people  ;  and  what 
he  said  was  so  suitable,  so  sensible,  and  so  positive  that 
they  did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  surprised  to  be  talked  to  so 
by  a  little  bow-legged  fellow  like  him,  and  answered  him 
in  his  own  serious  way. 

He  had  connections  with  the  policemen,  too,  though 
these  were  not  always  peaceable.  If  it  was  a  friend,  Kalli 
Dau  went  up  to  him  and  struck  up  a  conversation  ;  indeed, 
with  one  fat,  easy-going  fellow  he  had  established  an  ex- 
change in  stamps  and  old  copper  coins.  Sometimes,  how- 
ever, it  was  a  tall  thin  one,  "a  snappy  chap,"  as  Kalli  said. 
If  one  like  this  were  on  duty,  Kalli  curved  around  him, 
laid  his  books  on  the  ground,  bent  almost  double,  and 
stared  through  his  sad  little  bow-legs  at  the  hated  enemy. 
And  when  the  policeman,  with  the  deliberate  and  impres- 
sive air  of  his  kind,  came  toward  him,  Kalli  straightened 
up,  walked  on  a  little  way,  and  then  fell  into  the  same 
marvellous  attitude  again,  never  concerning  himself  at  all 
when  a  man  sometimes  stood  still  in  amazement  to  look 
at  him,  or  when  a  young  woman,  suddenly  spying  the  low, 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  31 

twisted  figure  in  front  of  her,  cried  out  in  fright.  Klaus 
Baas,  who  had  an  exaggerated  respect  for  conventional 
behavior,  implored  him  to  leave  off  this  masterpiece,  but 
he  couldn't  make  him  do  it. 

Finally  the}'  came  to  the  flower  shop,  in  front  of  which 
Kalli  Dau's  oldest  brother  Jonni,  a  thin,  loose- jointed  sort 
of  clown,  was  lounging  lazily,  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  in 
the  winter  sunshine.  Inside,  his  mother  was  bustling 
around  among  the  plants  and  flower  pots,  while  her  hus- 
band, in  the  dark  room  adjoining,  was  weaving  wreaths 
with  a  young  girl  who  was  continually  giggling.  The 
mother,  a  thin,  dark  woman,  who  always  wore  a  gay  red 
or  blue  silk  waist,  was  always  chatting  volubly  with  some 
one,  a  customer  or  a  neighbor.  She  gave  Klaus  a  friendly 
word,  too,  and  handed  him  a  little  bunch  of  violets  to  take 
to  his  mother.  And  Klaus  thought  how  fine  it  woidd  be 
if  she  were  only  his  mother.  And  yet  —  a  few  days  later, 
when  he  was  standing  outside  the  shop  door  again,  he 
heard  her  roughly  scolding  away  at  her  husband,  who  was 
weaving  mourning  wreaths  in  the  dark  room.  As  her 
East  Prussian  dialect  was  strange  to  Klaus,  he  couldn't 
entirely  make  out  what  she  was  saying,  but  he  felt  that 
it  was  something  pretty  bad.  What  awful  talk  !  and  how 
red  and  furiously  angry  her  face  was !  Then  hark  to  her 
husband,  reproaching  her  for  letting  the  children  go  ragged 
and  hungry.  No  —  no  a  thousand  times!  Oh,  how  dif- 
ferent, thought  Klaus,  how  different  his  mother  was!  To 
be  sure,  she  scolded  hard,  and.  laid  on  the  tongs  pretty 
hard,  —  but  after  all,  how  much  better!  Yes,  and  she  was 
so  careful;  and  looked  after  everything!  Klaus  drew 
back  from  the  shop  door  and  slipped  around  the  corner 
toward  home. 

He  found  his  mother  looking  grave,  as  usual,  sitting  in 
her  clean,  close-fitting  dress,  at  the  new  sewing  machine 
she  had  bought.  She  was  doing  her  first  piece  of  outside 
work  —  confided  to  her  by  the  cabinet-maker's  wife  on  the 
floor  below.  At  home  she  had  helped  in  the  fields  almost 
all  the  year  round,  but  here  she  wanted  to  get  to  work  at 
her  old  trade  in  earnest. 


32  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

Lotte  went  hither  and  thither,  always  busy  looking 
after  the  household.  All  the  time  she  was  not  at  school 
it  was  "Lotte!"  here  and  "Lotte!"  there,  from  early  in 
the  morning  until  evening.  Sometimes  she  stood  by  her 
mother,  helping  to  thread  needles  or  to  baste  ;  sometimes 
she  was  at  the  stove  in  the  kitchen ;  sometimes  she  was 
needed  by  one  of  the  little  ones  playing  quietly  on  the 
window-seat ;  sometimes  she  had  to  sew  on  a  button  that 
Klaus  was  about  to  lose.  And  she  was  always  kind  and 
sweet,  just  as  he  remembered  her  from  his  earliest  days, 
when  she  had  knelt  before  him  at  the  little  white  gate. 

At  last  she  was  free  to  get  at  her  own  work.  She  sat 
at  her  tasks,  bending  her  bright  yellow  head  till  the  braids 
fell  forward  beside  her  slate.  One  of  the  pretty  bright 
refractory  locks  was  always  hanging  down  over  her  eyes, 
and  she  was  continually  brushing  it  aside,  and  deftly  push- 
ing it  behind  her  ear.  She  was  very  conscientious  in  her 
work,  and  she  had  a  good  head,  but  she  did  not  get  along 
as  quickly  in  the  new  school  work  as  Klaus  did,  so  that 
he  had  to  help  her  every  evening.  Often  when,  in  asking 
questions  or  listening,  she  raised  her  bright  little  face, 
with  its  infinite  purity  and  fine  true  intelligence,  he  didn't 
hear  at  all  what  she  was  saying,  but  sat  open-mouthed, 
looking  at  her  with  kindly  eyes,  as  if  he  were  seeing  and 
expecting  something  marvellous.  He  felt  and  greatly 
loved  in  her  what  he  missed  in  his  mother  —  a  wise  and 
gentle  womanliness. 

He  was  so  thoroughly  in  accord  with  Lotte  that  they 
fairly  had  the  same  thoughts,  the  same  loves,  and  the 
same  secret  desires.  When  they  had  done  their  lessons 
and  together  had  put  the  beans  in  the  pan  and  set  them 
on  to  cook,  and  then  had  set  the  table,  they  crept  to  the 
window,  very  quietly,  so  that  their  mother  would  not 
notice,  and  looked  out  over  the  court  as  it  grew  dark. 
Just  opposite  rose  the  great  high  black  wall  of  the  next 
house.  The  lower  part  of  it  was  faintly  lighted  up  by  a 
pale  gleam  from  the  gateway,  and  through  this  they  could 
see  soft  loose  snowflakes  slowly  floating  down.  And 
they  could  see  nothing  else.     When  they  had  stood  there 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  33 

for  a  while,  Lotte  always  -said  softly,  "  Oh,  I  see  —  I 
see  —  " 

And  he  answered,  just  as  softly,  "  What  do  you  see  ?  " 

With  her  head  pressed  against  the  pane,  she  gazed  out, 
wide-eyed.  "I  see  all  the  boys  —  gliding  by  on  skates  — 
wait  a  minute  —  yes,  now  I  see  them  very  distinctly; 
they're  hurrying  along  the  Siiderstrom,  and  soon  they 
reach  the  bridge  at  the  sheep  path." 

"  How  many  of  them  are  there  ?  " 

"  Just  wait  till  I  see  !  "  Then  in  a  sure  little  voice  she 
named  them  all  over.  "  And  now,"  she  went  on,  "  it's 
beginning  to  snow —  and  Klaus  Nickels  has  lost  his  skate. 
They  all  stand  still  and  scold  him  because  it  happens  so 
often." 

"  Are  they  still  skating?  "  he  questioned  softly;  "don't 
they  ever  go  on  shore?" 

"Just  wait — not  yet — yes,  they  do.  Now  they  are 
going  up  to  the  cove  —  there  where  the  shore  is  so  high 
up,  you  remember?  It  is  awfully  slippery,  and  they 
keep  sliding  down  —  Fritz  HoUunder  is  the  first  one 
up." 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  listening  to  the  faint  splash- 
ing of  the  wet  snow  against  the  window.  Then  he  said 
softly,  "  Oh,  I  see  —  I  see  —  " 

"  What  do  you  see?  "  said  Lotte. 

"  We  are  lying  on  the  heath  near  Gudersdorf,  and  look- 
ing out  over  the  Elbe  —  you  and  I  and  Klaus  von  der 
Wisch  and  Liese  Lachmann." 

"  Is  she  with  us  ?  "  said  Lotte,  in  amazement.  "  Why, 
she  would  be  too  lazy." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  but  she's  really  there,  lying  beside 
Klaus  von  der  Wisch.  There  aren't  any  others  there. 
And  you  tell  Liese  Lachmann  that  part  of  the  hem  of 
her  dress  is  out  and  that  it's  all  dirty  again,  and  you 
scold  her  because  she's  so  untidy.  And  I  keep  teasing 
Klaus  von  der  Wisch,  and  hit  him  in  the  face  with 
heather." 

"  Well,  how  does  he  take  that?  Do  you  keep  on  hit- 
ting?" 


34  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

"  Yes  —  no  —  he  gets  up  — and  now  I  knock  him  down, 
and  now  he  gets  really  furious." 

"Yes,"  said  Lotte,  "that's  the  way  he  always  did. 
Does  he  kick  at  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  you  catch  hold  of  his  sleeve  and  pull  him 
back.  He  rages  like  a  bull  and  stamps  his  foot  —  but  he 
doesn't  do  anything  else  to  me." 

"That's  good,"  said  Lotte,  taking  a  deep  breath. 

They  were  quiet  again,  gazing  with  big  silent  eyes  out 
into  the  darkness.  Softly  Lotte  began  again,  "  I  see  — 
oh,  I  see  — " 

"  What  do  you  see  ?  " 

"  We're  playing  in  the  churchyard." 

"  Can  you  see  us  plainly  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  It's  so  dark  that  we  can't  see 
Pastor  Jensen's  grave  any  longer.  You  boys  are  all  sit- 
ting on  the  wall  telling  war  stories.  Now  Anna  Tramm 
and  Liese  Lachmann  and  I  come  out  from  the  thick 
poplar  —  you  know,  that  one  in  the  corner  by  the  narrow 
walk  — and  we  make  you  boys  mad." 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  know  — we  say  the  rhymes  we  made  up  about 

you  — 

Klaus  Baas 
Mach  Spass, 

and 

Fritz  Hollander 
Krup  under. 

Now  Fritz  Hollunder  is  running  up  behind  me — he  runs 
past  Liese  Lachmann,  who  stands  there  and  wouldn't 
mind  being  caught,  and  he  tries  to  catch  me  —  around  the 
tree — down  the  little  walk — I  don't  think  he'll  get  me 
—  he  almost  falls  down.  Then  1  run  toward  the  pillar, 
you  know — behind  the  altar,  where  it's  always  so  dark. 
He  has  lost  me,  and  stands  looking  with  all  his  eyes,  as  if 
I  had  flown  inside  the  wall — then  I  have  to  laugh  out 
loud  and  he  gets  me  —  and  he  holds  me  pretty  tight,  but 
not  too  hard." 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  35 

Klaus,  becoming-  jealous,  said,  "  P'ritz  Hollunder  always 
has  a  big  part  in  all  your  stories." 

"Oh,  well,  just  because  he  was  the  quickest,"  she  said, 
pressing  her  little  head  against  the  pane. 

"  But  that  isn't  true,"  said  Klaus.  "  I  was  the  quick- 
est." 

"  You  !  "  she  said  slowly,  in  soft  surprise.  "  Why,  but 
you  are  my  brother." 

As  they  stood  there  making  their  dream  pictures,  they 
heard  the  outer  door  open  and  their  father  take  off  his 
heavy  boots  and  set  his  tin  dinnerpail  on  the  table. 
Then  he  appeared  at  the  kitchen  door,  calling  in  his  loud 
kindly  voice,  "  Good  evening,  everybody  !  " 

Lotte  lighted  the  old  lamp  over  the  fireplace.  It  was 
the  same  lamp  that  had  furnished  light  for  the  mother's 
great-grandparents  in  the  lonely  field,  —  a  little  open 
whale-oil  lamp.  Over  its  flat  edge  hung  the  wick,  which 
burned  under  protest,  keeping  up  a  continual  spirting 
and  sputtering.  It  was  a  mean,  uncertain  little  light, 
but  the  mother  thought  that  "  old  Sara,"  as  she  called  it, 
was  cheaper  than  any  other  lamp  would  be. 

Then  they  all  had  supper  —  like  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  other  families  all  over  broad  Germany  in  the  winter. 
And  they  had  it  off  a  gay  tablecloth,  using  forks  with 
horn  handles  and  steel  tines.  In  the  centre  of  the  table 
stood  the  one  iron  pan,  full  of  baked  beans  or  dumplings. 
As  they  ate,  each  one  told  of  anything  new  he  had  seen, 
or  of  anything  old  that  had  struck  him  in  a  new  way. 
The  father  told  of  his  work  at  pulling  down  old  houses ; 
Lotte  told  about  school  and  about  the  little  ones ;  Klaus 
told  about  Kalli  Dan,  and  about  how  gay  Kalli's  mother's 
waist  was,  and  about  the  past  of  the  great  city,  of  which 
he  had  heard  at  school.  And  little  tow-headed  Hanna 
told  about  what  she  had  seen  out  the  window.  Their 
father  took  everything,  even  little  Hanna's  talk,  quite 
seriously,  and  talked  to  them  as  if  they  were  all  good 
friends  together.  Then  the  mother,  who  had  been  busy 
helping  the  little  ones,  and  had  hitherto  said  nothing,  got 
provoked,  and  said  to  Klaus,  —  because  he  talked  the  most 


36  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

vigorously  and  emphatically,  —  "I  used  to  think  that  you 
might  have  a  little  more  sense  than  your  father,  but  you 
are  a  perfect  child,  just  like  him.  I  can't  listen  to  your 
gabble  any  longer." 

An  hour  later,  he  lay  in  bed  in  the  little  pitch  dark 
room  with  Lotte  beside  him.  He  lay  there  listening  to 
the  loud  scolding  of  the  drunken  mason  who  lived  on  the 
other  side  of  the  wall,  and  who  was  continually  quarrel- 
ling with  his  wife  —  who,  indeed,  was  not  his  wife  at  all. 
Klaus  had  a  secret  dread  that  the  mason,  in  his  fury, 
might  break  through  the  wall,  or  shoot  through  it  with 
his  pistol.  Klaus  positively  saw  the  wall  bend  in  and 
break,  saw  the  bullet  coming  through,  and  even  felt  the 
pain  where  it  struck  him  in  the  breast.  But  he  felt  in 
honor  bound  not  to  tell  all  this  to  Lotte.  She  lay  there 
quietly,  raising  her  head  now  and  then  to  see  if  he  was 
well  covered  up,  and  asked  him  whether  she  mightn't 
build  a  dog-kennel  now  —  that  is,  lie  over  on  her  back 
with  her  knees  well  drawn  up.  She  lay  there  beside  him, 
and  he,  hearing  her  gentle  breathing  and  feeling  her  hair 
against  his  cheek,  felt  more  secure. 


CHAPTER   IV 

Two  weeks  later  very  cold  snowy  weather  set  in  —  those 
were  the  times  of  snowy,  severe  winters.  Then  Klaus 
made  his  first  expedition  of  any  length. 

On  a  large  open  place  on  the  way  to  Eimsbiittel  — it  was 
built  up  long  ago  —  between  heaps  of  rubbish,  piles  of  old 
lumber,  and  little  sheds,  there  was  a  fair-sized  stretch  of 
water,  solidly  frozen  over.  Everything  around,  ice,  wood, 
rubbish,  and  huts,  was  covered  with  a  fresh  fall  of  snow, 
and  shone  clean  and  white  in  the  crisp  winter  air. 

All  the  children  from  the  tall  houses  and  the  network 
of  narrow  streets  in  the  Neustadt  had  flocked  here  by 
hundreds,  just  as  all  the  flies  in  a  room  flock  to  a  sugar- 
bowl.  In  a  minute  they  had  covered  the  pond,  and  had 
converted  it  and  the  sloping  slippery  stretch  leading  to  it 
into  a  toboggan  slide.  Some  had  on  skates ;  others  had 
regular  little  sleds  on  which  they  sat  astride,  often  holding 
little  brothers  or  sisters  in  front  of  them.  Many  of  them, 
with  a  child's  quick  inventiveness,  had  devised  fearful  and 
wonderful  substitutes — simply  a  board,  or  a  piece  of 
strong  pasteboard;  two  or  three  were  sitting  on  iron  pans 
v/hich  they  had  abstracted  from  their  mothers ;  and  some 
absolutely  reckless  ones,  who  weren't  thinking  of  the 
morrow,  were  sacrificing  shirts,  seats  of  trousers,  and 
finally  their  skins. 

On  the  day  that  Klaus  discovered  this  playground,  he 
was  there  alone  with  Kalli  Dau.  He  tumbled  around  at  a 
great  rate,  got  to  feeling  a  little  more  assured  among  all 
these  strange  people,  and  for  the  first  time  felt  happy  and 
at  home.  He  told  them  ail  about  it  at  supper  with  great 
enthusiasm,  and  said  they  must  all  be  sure  to  go  there  the 

37 


38  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

next  afternoon.  Their  mother  seemed  to  be  willing  for 
him  and  Lotte  to  go,  but  flatly  forbade  the  little  ones. 
They  would  ruin  their  clothes,  she  said,  get  run  over,  and 
goodness  knows  what  else.  They  didn't  dare  to  contra- 
dict her. 

When  Klaus  and  Lotte  set  out  the  next  afternoon,  the 
little  ones  cried.  Not  daring  to  ask  their  mother  about 
the  little  ones  again,  they  went  thoughtfully  down  the 
stairs,  both  thinking  the  same  thing :  What  fun  the  two 
little  ones  would  have  had  with  the  snow  and  ice  at  home 
in  Heisterberg  !  And  now  they  were  sitting  upstairs  just 
looking  out  at  the  wall. 

When  they  were  halfway  down  the  steps  Lotte  sud- 
denly put  her  head  down  on  the  banister  and  cried 
bitterly.  Klaus  stood  there  sadly,  not  knowing  what  to 
do,  but  just  as  much  vexed  as  she  that  it  couldn't  be  man- 
aged. But  when  she  raised  her  head  and,  sobbing  quietly, 
went  back  up  the  stairs  again,  he  followed  her,  wondering 
anxiously  how  it  would  turn  out. 

Lotte  went  to  the  door  of  the  room  where  her  mother 
was  standing  beside  the  machine  with  a  garment  in  her 
hand.  Very  quietly,  and  with  just  a  touch  of  roguishness 
in  her  voice,  with  much  the  same  manner,  indeed,  that  her 
father  used  in  speaking  to  her  mother,  Lotte  said  that  if 
she  could  only  take  the  children  with  her,  she  would  look 
after  them  just  as  well  as  she  knew  how. 

Though  Lotte's  tone  certainly  came  from  the  best  inten- 
tion in  the  world,  even  if  it  did  perhaps  strike  the  wrong 
note,  it  cut  her  mother  like  a  whip.  She  struck  Lotte 
sharply. 

Lotte  kept  calm  —  just  as  her  father  did  —  and  bore  the 
blows,  raising  her  arm  a  little  to  ward  them  off.  Finally 
her  mother  turned  aAvay  —  perhaps  on  account  of  the  quiet 
clearness  of  Lotte's  eyes,  which  showed  a  self-possession 
that  her  own  lacked  —  and  went  into  the  bedroom. 

Then  Lotte  knelt  down  in  front  of  the  little  ones,  put 
on  their  heavy  coats  and,  almost  blinded  with  her  tears, 
fumbled  in  the  drawer  for  their  mufflers,  which  she  tied 
around  their  heads  and  necks.     Her  breast  was  heaving 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  39 

violently  all  the  time.  Then  they  all  went  down  the 
stairs  crying,  Klaus  didn't  dare  to  look  at  Lotte,  for  one 
doesn't  like  to  look  a  dishonored  man  in  the  face,  even 
if  the  dishonor  is  unjust. 

He  buckled  on  the  skates  which  he  had  brought  with 
him  from  Heisterberg,  and  as  usual  was  soon  entirely  ab- 
sorbed in  play.  At  times,  however,  he  looked  over  at  her, 
in  her  rather  short  frock,  long  ago  outgrown.  She  was 
bending  over,  holding  one  of  the  little  ones  in  front  of 
her  as  she  slid  down  hill,  her  bright  braid,  with  its  two 
shades  of  yellow,  hanging  down  over  her  hot  little  cheek. 

Suddenly,  when  they  were  all  at  the  very  height  of  their 
play,  they  heard  confused  voices.  Looking  up,  they  saw  a 
lot  of  boys  talking  excitedly  to  a  big,  oldish  man  who  was 
approaching  the  pond.  As  he  walked  he  swung  his  arms,  to 
frighten  away  the  groups  of  children,  and  looked  out  over 
the  pond.  He  had  the  red,  heavy  face  of  a  drunkard. 
Klaus  ran  up,  and  heard  that  he  was  the  tenant  of  the 
place,  and  wanted  the  childen  to  get  out.  When  several 
of  the  big  boys  said,  "He's  dead  drunk,  so  we  ought  to 
go,"  he  went  away  and  came  back  with  a  policeman,  a 
good,  kindly  fellow.  He  put  in  a  good  word  for  the  chil- 
dren, but  he  couldn't  do  anything  with  the  man,  and  so 
he  calmly  did  his  duty  and  cleared  the  place. 

The  children  lingered  in  groups  around  the  boards  that 
surrounded  their  paradise.  When  they  saw  that  it  was 
of  no  use,  they  started  home,  casting  longing  glances  back 
at  the  open  lot.  In  a  long,  straggling  procession  they 
went  back  to  the  high  houses  which,  in  the  dull  gray 
evening  glow,  stood  huddled  on  the  field  in  the  distance 
ahead  of  them  like  a  herd  of  huge  plump  cattle. 

The  little  ones  didn't  want  to  go  home  so  soon,  and 
Lotte  herself  wasn't  eager  to  meet  her  mother  ;  they 
weren't  allowed  to  play  in  the  court,  so  they  stayed  in  the 
draughty  passageway  and  played  together  there.  After 
a  little  while  Klaus  saw  that  Lotte's  eyes  were  sunken, 
and  that  she  was  trembling  with  cold.  He  insisted  that 
they  should  all  go  in. 

In  the  night  his  mother  awakened  him.     Scantily  clad, 


40  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

she  was  standing  beside  the  bed,  saying,  "  How  in  the 
world  can  you  lie  there  sleeping  now  ?  "  Then  he  heard 
a  confused  voice  beside  him  saying,  "  Where  can  Hanna's 
muffler  be  ?  Oughtn't  it  to  be  here  ?  I  must  get  up  and 
hunt  it ;  but  first  I'll  get  supper.  Quick  !  quick  !  I  hear 
father  coming  already.  Get  up  quick,  you  lazy  old  girl !  " 
Klaus  sprang  up  in  horror,  got  dressed,  and  looked  on 
helplessly  while  his  mother  hurried  to  and  fro  with  cold 
cloths.  His  father  came,  too,  and  looked  down  on  Lotte 
in  mute  distress. 

In  the  morning,  on  his  way  to  work,  his  father  left  a 
call  for  the  doctor.  He  declared  it  inflammation  of  the 
brain — a  bad  case  of  it.  He  came  every  day,  but  he  could 
do  nothing.  The  sick  girl  lay  there  on  her  back  with  her 
eyes  closed,  totally  unconscious  most  of  the  time,  and  mut- 
tering to  herself  low  and  pitifully.  ^'^nd  day  and  night 
her  mother  went  to  and  fro  continually. 

Klaus  thought  a  good  deal  about  his  mother's  not  sleep- 
ing ;  he  saw  her  asleep  just  once,  when  she  was  kneeling 
beside  Lotte's  bed.  But  he  didn't  have  courage  enough 
to  ask  her  to  leave  him  with  Lotte  while  she  took  a  nap, 
because  he  was  afraid  of  Lotte  now.  She  looked  so  strange 
and  unnatural,  and  every  once  in  a  while  her  face  was  dis- 
torted so  that  it  looked  like  an  old  woman's.  With  big 
terrified  eyes  he  looked  at  her  from  the  doorway,  and  then 
went  over  to  the  window  and  stood  looking  down  on  the 
empty  court. 

As  they  had  noticed  that  the  sick  girl  shuddered  at 
every  noise,  Klaus,  without  being  told,  took  the  little 
ones  upstairs  where  there  was  an  empty  flat,  and  played 
with  them  there  on  the  stairs.  Two  puny  youngsters, 
who  lived  on  the  floor  above  that,  joined  them.  It  was 
still  bitter  cold,  and  they  nearly  froze  in  their  sorry  play 
in  such  a  tiny  place;  so  Klaus  had  to  think  up  all  kinds 
of  ways  to  keep  them  moving.  When  the  sun  came  out 
a  little  they  all  sat  in  a  little  bunch  in  the  farthest  corner 
of  the  windowsill,  which  the  beams  of  the  sun  reached  for 
only  a  short  time  toward  evening.  Sitting  pressed  side- 
wise  against  the  wall,  so  that  they  kept  each  other  warm, 


KLAUS    HINRICH   BAAS  Al 

they  played  at  guessing  just  how  far  the  sunbeams  would 
reach  this  time.  Klaus  knew  perfectly  well  how  far  it 
would  come,  but  he  pretended  to  think  it  quite  possible 
that  it  might  take  a  sudden  leap  forward,  like  a  great 
white  cat.  If  it  got  too  cold  and  tiresome,  the  two  sickly 
little  cripples  took  off  their  shoes  and  slid  down  the  banis- 
ters agilely  in  spite  of  their  ugly  little  bow-legs,  and  then 
noiselessly  mounted  the  stairs  again.  The  landlord,  com- 
ing up  toward  evening  to  feed  his  pigeons,  never  passed 
them  without  scolding  at  "  that  everlasting  bunch  of  kids." 
The  two  cripples  made  faces  at  him  behind  his  back ;  but 
Klaus  drew  the  little  ones  aside  and  gazed  silently  in  front 
of  him. 

Then  his  father,  coming  home  from  work,  came  up  the 
stairs,  putting  his  heavy  feet  down  carefully.  They  went 
silently  down  to  meet  him.  How  tired  he  looked,  and  how 
hard  it  was  for  him  to  walk  !  He  was  breathing  very 
hard,  and  the  sweat  glistened  on  his  forehead.  Oh,  what 
if  he  too  should  get  sick  !  Wide-eyed,  they  all  went  into 
the  kitchen,  and  looked  up  at  the  mother  as  she  came  out 
of  the  bedroom.  And  when  they  saw  the  fixed  distress  in 
her  eyes,  they  dropped  their  own,  and  sat  brooding  in 
sorrowful  silence,  listening  to  the  weary  monotonous  moan- 
ing of  the  sick  girl. 

Toward  the  evening  of  the  ninth  day  Klaus's  mother, 
who  had  not  had  her  clothes  off  at  all  since  the  beginning 
of  Lotte's  sickness,  had  sunk  into  a  chair  by  the  hearth, 
where  she  had  been  crying  her  heart  out  in  secret ;  and 
she  had  fallen  asleep.  Klaus  noticed  that  the  voice  from 
the  bedroom  did  not  sound  so  toneless  and  pitiful  as  usual. 
He  went  quietly  to  the  door  and  looked  fearfully  toward 
the  bed,  only  dimly  lighted  by  the  lamp.  Then  he  went 
in  and  closed  the  door.  As  he  stood  there  apprehensively, 
the  moaning  ceased  altogether,  and  he  heard  her  call 
softly  for  her  mother.  Then  he  went  up  to  the  bed,  sud- 
denly losing  all  his  fear,  and  said  gently,  "  I'm  here,  Lotte 
—  it's  me  !  " 

She  opened  her  eyes  a  little  way.  "  Where  are  you  ?  " 
she  said,  in  a  low  tired  voice. 


42  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

"  Why,  here  I  am,"  he  said,  bending  over  her  ;  "  don't 
you  see  me  ?" 

"  I  can't  see  you  !  "  she  said,  in  a  low  wail.  "  I'm  blind! 
Don't  tell  the  others." 

He  threw  himself  on  his  knees  by  the  bed,  beside  him- 
self with  grief.  "  Oh,  say,  Lotte  —  '  I  see  —  I  see  '  —  listen, 
'  I  see — I  see.'  " 

She  listened,  tried  to  open  her  eyes  wide,  and  said,  low 
and  expectantly,  "  What  do  you  see  ?  "  and  waited. 

He  looked,  and  saw  that  her  eyes  were  dull  and  grayish, 
like  an  old  woman's.  He  dropped  his  head  on  his  arm 
and  answered  desperately,  "  I  don't  see  anything  at  all," 

"  Neither  do  I,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  She  lay  very 
still  while  he  cried  there  beside  her.  Then,  as  if  she  had 
reached  a  clear  and  calm  conclusion  after  thinking  hard, 
she  said,  "  I  shan't  open  my  eyes  again,  and  then  mother 
won't  see  it."  She  tried  to  say  something  else,  but  he 
was  crying  so  hard  that  he  couldn't  make  out  anything 
but  the  name  orHeisterbergj. 

While  he  was  lying  tliere  his  father  came  home,  waking 
his  mother  as  he  came  in.  They  both  came  into  the  bed- 
room, and  found  him  lying  there,  with  Lotte  moaning  in 
the  same  old  way. 

She  kept  it  up  all  evening  —  even  more  wearily  than 
usual.  His  mother  stood  there  bending  over  the  bed  while 
he  and  his  father  sat  beside  the  cold  hearth.  When  it  was 
time  to  go  to  bed  his  mother  came  to  the  door  and  said 
to  his  father,  in  her  abrupt  way,  "  You  must  go  to  bed. 
You've  got  to  be  fresh  for  your  work  to-morrow." 
-^  Jan  Baas  looked  around  and  shook  his  head,  saying,  "  I 
can't  listen  to  her  moaning  any  longer."  Then  he  went 
outside  and  sat  down  on  the  stairs.  Klaus  followed  him, 
and  there  they  sat  all  night  long,  hearing  her  low  moans 
faintly  through  the  Avail.  He  held  his  father's  hand  in 
his,  and  tried  to  comfort  him  by  telling  him  quietly  about 
all  kinds  of  nice  things  that  were  going  to  happen  some 
day — when  Peter  would  be  grown  up  and  earning  good 
wages  as  a  farm  hand  ;  and  he  — he  was  going  to  be  a 
teacher   and   find  a  place   in  their  old  village,   and  his 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  43 

father  and  mother  would  live  with  him  and  be  very  com- 
fortable. "Then  all  you'll  doll  be  just  to  work  a  tiny 
bit  in  my  garden,  father.  But  you  haven't  been  looking 
very  well  lately,  — what's  the  matter? ',' 

"■  It  isn't  anything  much,"  Jan  Baas  answered,  passing 
his  hand  over  his  e3^es.  "I  was  pulling  down  some 
rafters  and  a  beam  struck  me  in  the  side.  And  ever 
since  then  the  place  has  been  hurting  me.  But  you 
mustn't  say  anything  to  your  mother  about  it." 

Klaus  caught  the  discouraged  tone  in  his  father's  voice, 
usually  so  full  and  hearty.  He  sat  there  pondering 
deeply.  He  thought  of  a  sentence  he  had  just  had  in  his 
reader  at  school.  "  Thereupon  great  misfortune  came 
upon  the  family,  and  direst  poverty."  If  his  father  got 
sick  —  well,  then  they  would  have  great  misfortune  and 
direst  poverty.  He  meditated  on  that  word  poor  —  poor. 
At  home  he  had  heard  people  say  that  this  or  that  family 
was  poor ;  and  he  had  once  been  in  a  house  where  poor 
people  lived.  A  feeling  of  hunger  and  cold  and  shame 
crept  over  him  now,  and  he  clasped  his  father's  hand 
tighter.  The  drunken  mason  came  muttering  and  stum- 
bling up  the  steps.  Then  the  coal-heaver  came  downstairs, 
the  pail  in  his  pocket  knocking  hard  against  the  banisters 
at  every  step.  Then  came  the  gray  light  of  the  morning, 
and  with  it  came  his  mother.  Two  weeks  ago  her  harsh, 
sober  face  had  still  been  smooth ;  now  it  looked  as  if  it 
had  suddenly  been  furrowed  and  ravaged  by  a  dreadful 
storm. 

"  She  is  still  now,"  she  said,  looking  at  the  two  refugees 
with  hard,  comfortless  eyes.     "You  can  come  in." 

Then  they  both  broke  out  crying.  Standing  by  the 
kitchen  window,  he  cried  till  he  could  cry  no  more. 
Then  his  mother  sent  him  to  the  cabinet-maker's,  who 
had  a  dark  workshop  in  a  court  near  by.  The  old  fellow, 
with  his  long  hair  and  clothing  full  of  sawdust  and  shav- 
ings,  listened  to  the  order  and  then  asked  indiiferently 
how  old  his  sister  might  be.  When  Klaus  said  that  she 
was  thirteen,  he  showed  a  little  more  interest.  He  took 
Klaus  into  the  next  room,  where,  among  various  odds  and 


44  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

ends  of  furniture,  there  were  several  coffins.  He  measured 
one  of  them  with  his  rule,  and  said  to  Klaus,  "  Now  show 
me  how  tall  your  sister  is." 

Klaus  showed  him  how  much  higher  her  yellow  head 
had  come  than  his. 

"  Is  she  as  tall  as  that  ?  "  asked  the  old  man. 

"  Just  about,"  he  answered. 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  old  man,  peevishly,  "that  casket 
won't  do.  Tell  your  mother  that  I'll  bring  one  to-morrow. 
How  about  the  pay  for  it  ?" 

"  Mother  has  the  money  all  laid  by,"  said  Klaus,  quietly. 

When  he  got  home,  his  mother  told  him  that  she  had 
sent  his  father  to  work,  adding,  abruptly,  "He'll  get 
through  the  day  best  that  way  —  and  he  can't  be  an}^  help 
tome;  he's  too  soft-hearted.      Tom  come." 

Pale  as  a  sheet,  he  followed  her  to  the  bed  in  the  next 
room  and  stood  behind  her,  waiting.  She  bent  over  and 
clasped  the  little  dead  form  with  a  tenderness  so  touching 
that  it  overcame  him.  Then  she  told  him  gently  to  take 
everything  off  the  bed  but  the  mattress.  She  nodded  her 
head  toward  a  fresh  sheet  lying  on  a  chair  at  the  side,  and 
he  spread  it  carefully  over  the  mattress.  Lotte's  head 
hung  over  a  little,  so  he  held  it,  and  thus  they  laid  her  on 
the  clean  sheet.  Then  his  mother  took  off  the  little  slip 
and  washed  her  with  a  damp  cloth,  while  he  held  the 
brown  earthen  bowl  of  water,  standing  tall  and  straight 
as  if  he  were  performing  a  knightly  service.  They  put  a 
clean  little  slip  on  her,  combed  her  hair,  laid  her  head 
down  straight,  and  laid  close  together  the  little  feet  that 
had  flitted  so  industriously  around  the  house. 

Then  Klaus  went  into  the  sitting-room  to  help  the  little 
ones  put  in  the  quiet  day  —  as  well  as  the  two  that  fol- 
lowed. His  usually  lively  spirit  saw  and  grasped  nothing 
that  went  on  around  him.  He  simply  sat  brooding  over 
mute  questionings  —  where  was  Lotte  now  —  frozen  within 
that  cold,  dead  body,  or  in  heaven  ?  But  where  was 
heaven  ?  Or  was  she  perhaps  standing  unseen  beside  the 
hearth,  or  in  a  corner,  looking  on  with  eyes  "  not  of  this 
world"  at  everything  they  were  doing?     When  any  one 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  45 

spoke  to  him  he  sprang  up  as  if  he  had  been  waked  from 
a  dream.  Then  he  saw  that  his  father  was  worn  and  pale, 
and  that  whenever  his  mother  came  out  of  the  bedroom 
she  tried  hard  to  keep  down  the  emotion  that  rose  in  her 
as  she  stood  beside  Lotte's  body.  Looking  at  her  as  she 
came  out  another  time,  he  saw  that  there  was  going  to  be 
another  cliild. 

After  the  burial  his  soul  gradually  came  back  to  him,  in 
\/  much  the  same  way  that  a  bird  that  has  been  frightened 
begins  to  sing  again.  He  left  his  place  between  the  hearth 
and  the  window  and  went  from  room  to  room  again,  talk- 
ing with  the  others,  and  taking  possession  again  of  the 
house  and  the  people.  In  the  evening,  lying  on  the  bed  he 
had  made  for  himself  on  the  floor  in  the  narrow  hall, 
he  pondered  about  where  the  dead  sister  might  be.  And 
he  imagined  —  for  it  seemed  to  him  the  most  natural,  the 
best,  and  certainly  the  most  likely  thing  to  happen —  that 
she  was  in  the  new  baby,  soon  to  be  born.  He  imagined 
that  his  mother  knew  it,  too,  that,  indeed,  she  had  perhaps 
arranged  it  with  Lotte.  Otherwise,  how  could  Lotte  have 
died  so  quietly  '? 

And  when,  on  Christmas  Eve,  a  little  girl  was  born,  he 
never  doubted  that  it  was  just  as  he  had  thought.  They 
had  no  cradle  there,  and  so  he  rocked  the  baby  in  his  arms 
for  hours  at  a  time.  He  studied  its  eyes,  talked  to  it 
softly,  calling  it  by  the  dead  sister's  name  —  which  was  to 
be  the  baby's  name,  too  —  and  busied  himself  with  it  con- 
stantly. So  he  settled  the  matter  to  his  satisfaction,  and 
consoled  himself  as  happilj"  and  as  wisely  as  he  could,  thus 
winning  the  right  to  be  a  little  gay  again. 

Then  he  went  out  into  the  streets  again,  still  somewhat 
quiet,  with  more  restraint  in  all  his  movements,  and  a  look 
of  greater  maturity  in  his  face.  And  he  took  hold  again 
of  his  interest  in  the  lives  and  doings  of  the  people  around 
him.  To  be  sure,  he  hadn't  much  time,  for  he  had  to  take 
over  a  good  deal  of  Lotte's  work;  but  now  and  then  he 
could  deliver  wreaths  and  bouquets  for  an  hour  with  Kalli 
Dau,  and  get  a  little  excursion  besides.  In  this  way  they 
got  to  the  bright  streets  along  the  Alster,  and  to  the  harbor, 


46  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

where  he  could  see  right  in  front  of  him  the  ships  which 
he  had  watched  in  the  distance  from  the  windows  and  wall 
at  home. 

Kalli  Dau  seemed  to  know  everything  in  Hamburg;  or 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  say  that  all  Hamburg  seemed 
to  belong  to  him  —  and  the  harbor  in  particular.  It  is 
true  that  they  sometimes  got  into  the  wrong  place  and 
were  sent  back;  several  times,  indeed,  they  thought  it 
well  to  withdraw  in  a  good  deal  of  haste  —  a  painful  situ- 
ation for  Klaus  Baas.  Generally,  however,  everything 
went  very  well,  thanks  to  the  confidence  that  the  forlorn 
little  brown-faced  boy  in  ragged  clothes  inspired  in  every- 
body. On  sunshiny  days  in  February,  they  stood  undis- 
turbed on  a  steamer,  watching  basket  after  basket  of  coal 
being  let  down  from  the  derrick  on  to  the  wet  dirty  deck. 
They  went  aboard  the  Chinese  ships  as  if  they  were  on 
some  errand,  and  fairly  ransacked  them.  They  saw  the 
Chinese  stokers  down  in  the  forecastle  playing  cards  with 
chips  in  the  red  glow  from  a  lamp  that  burned  night  and 
day.  In  some  way  or  other  that  didn't  cost  anything, 
they  got  over  to  Steinwarder,  where  they  persuaded  a 
foreman  or  overseer  to  let  them  go  through  the  shipyards, 
on  the  broad  floor  of  which  the  steel  ribs  were  being  bent. 
They  went  through  the  smithy,  too,  and  saw  the  workers 
standing  before  the  fires  and  anvils.  They  climbed  up  on 
the  scaffolding,  where  the  riveters  were  working  on  the 
hull,  making  a  noise  that  could  be  heard  clear  across  the 
harbor.  They  ducked  along  rather  cautiously  to  avoid 
running  right  into  the  manager  —  "  for  that  isn't  exactly 
necessary,"  said  Kalli.  They  went  along  the  sheds,  in 
among  the  sacks,  casks,  bales,  and  heaps  of  goods,  from 
inbound  and  outbound  cargoes.  Kalli  Dau  knew  almost 
every  kind  of  goods ;  he  told  its  name  and  origin,  not  at 
all  didactically  or  with  undue  importance,  but  as  a  matter 
of  course,  as  if  to  say,  "This  all  belongs  to  me."  Klaus 
Baas  followed  him  cautiously  and  uncertainly,  missing 
nothing,  however.  Finally  they  went  over  the  gangway 
on  board  a  big  South  American  shi|).  They  made  their 
way  through  the  long  passageways  and  cabins,  and  got  a 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  47 

present  of  some  oranges  from  a  friendly  stewardess  in  a 
black  dress  and  a  little  white  cap,  who  seemed  to  be  an 
old  acquaintance  of  Kalli's.  Kalli  got  on  easy  terms  with 
people  just  as  soon  as  he  stood  before  them,  cocking  his 
slight  little  brown  head  on  one  side,  and  opening  his 
mouth  for  a  comfortable  chat. 

•^The  country  boy  did  not  puzzle  himself  too  much  over 
all  that  he  saw.  He  was  too  equable  and  cool  for  that ; 
and  he  was  too  well  acquainted  with  these  different  kinds 
of  work,  with  horse  and  wagon,  at  the  counter,  with  the 
trowel  on  the  scaffolding,  with  the  crane  and  rigging,  to 
be  astounded  by  all  that  he  saw.  He  didn't  flit  hastily 
from  one  thing  to  another  ;  he  walked  among  them  slowly 
and  watchfully,  rejoicing  in  this  manifold  activity  as  if 
he  were  at  the  theatre  watching  a  play  well  known  to 
him,  indeed,  but  grown  larger  and  more  varied.  It  often 
occurred  to  him  that  he  would  like  to  tell  his  father  or 
Lotte  about  something  he  had  just  seen,  to  explain  it  to 
them,  a  bit  boastfully,  or  to  ask  them  some  question  about 
it.  Then,  when  he  remembered  suddenly  that  his  father 
was  silent  and  downcast,  and  that  Lotte  was  dead,  all 
these  things  rose  again  before  his  spirit,  forcing  him  to 
study  them  once  more,  to  become  familiar  with  them,  to 
form  some  judgment  of  them,  and  then  to  leave  them 
there  in  their  true  and  rightful  character. 

And  so  he  followed  Kalli  Dau  around.  Kalli  main- 
tained that  the  delivery  of  the  flowers  w\as  altogether  his 
business,  and  kept  for  himself  the  groschen  that  came  in 
now  and  then.  He  kept  them  under  a  big  broken  flower- 
pot that  was  turned  over  to  serve  as  a  pedestal  for  a  palm. 

"  Our  family's  a  rotten  lot,"  he  said.  "  They  rob  one 
another  whenever  they  can,  especially  mother  and  my 
brother  Jonni.  He  doesn't  do  a  thing  any  more  but 
stand  around  and  swill  rum.  And  then  there's  the  awful 
stuff  we  have  to  eat.  Do  you  think  that  she"  —  she  was 
his  mother  with  Kalli  Dau  —  "  would  cook  for  us  ?  Cheat- 
ing and  nastiness  are  what  she  lives  on.  I'm  going  to  sea 
as  soon  as  I  can.  She  won't  let  me  run  off  because  she 
thinks  I'll  make  a  good  worker  for  her,  but  I'm  going  to 


48  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

bolt."  Klaus  never  went  farther  than  the  door  of  the  shop ; 
he  saw  the  groschen  disappear  under  the  flower-pot,  and 
then  went  home. 

A  break  in  their  friendship  occurred  several  weeks 
later,  because  one  day  Kalli  Dau  took  in  the  whole  of 
three  groschen,  and  gave  Klaus  no  share  of  it,  although  it 
was  all  in  half -groschen  pieces.  Then  again  Klaus  simplyi . 
couldn't  endure  Kalli  Dau's  habit  of  looking  through  his] 
legs,  which  Kalli  couldn't  seem  to  help.  A  Jew,  a  dealer 
in  second-hand  shoes  in  Elbe  Strasse,  had,  Kalli  main- 
tained, cheated  him  on  a  pair  of  boots.  In  order  to  avenge 
the  imposition,  Kalli  took  up  his  position  opposite  the  shoe- 
shop  and  stared  through  his  legs  at  the  fat  dealer,  who 
stood,  calmly  smoking  a  cigar,  in  his  doorway,  framed  and 
wreathed  around  by  long  strings  of  shoes,  never  seeing  at 
all  the  marvellous  statue  of  Kalli  Dau.  Klaus  Baas  scolded, 
and  then  went  away,  refusing  to  wait  till  anger  overcame 
""T-^  the  shopkeeper.  A  tliird  reason  for  the  break  was  that 
^^  as  Klaus  came  to  feel  more  at  home  in  his  new  surround- 
ings, his  natural  inclination  to  lead  and  to  collect  a  Cos- 
sack regiment  came  to  the  fore  again. 

The  host  that  he  rallied  wasn't  exactly  a  lordly  one. 
One  of  them  was  one  of  his  playmates  on  the  stairs,  a 
short,  chunky,  bow-legged  little  chap,  minus  teeth,  wear- 
ing a  jacket  that  had  gone  to  the  dogs.  He  had  been 
sent  to  the  country  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  summer  by 
some  charitable  society.  And  there,  like  most  children, 
he  had  dug  in  the  ground,  and  had  observed,  to  his  bound- 
less amazement,  that  it  was  possible  to  keep  digging  farther 
and  farther  down.  Finally  he  got  so  deep  down  that  only 
the  top  of  his  head  could  be  seen.  Now  he  spent  all  his 
time  sitting  in  the  sunless  court,  digging  his  knife  down 
into  the  ground,  always  striking  a  stone,  and  always  being 
chased  away  by  the  landlord.  He  got  terribly  excited  at 
his  work,  and  had  a  habit  of  insisting  that  any  spectators 
that  happened  to  be  tliere  should  put  their  hands  on  his 
chest  to  feel  how  his  heart  was  thumping.  Then  he  told 
them  that  a  mouse  was  gnawing  at  his  heart,  and  that  the 
doctor  had  said  that  he  would  live  to  be  fourteen,  and 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  49 

then  die.  Klaus  didn't  quite  swallow  the  mouse  story, 
but  he  accepted  the  part  about  dying,  and  said  that  if 
that  were  so,  the  boy  ought  to  give  up  his  digging  and 
come  out  into  the  fresh  air.  The  boy  gave  one  more  stab 
with  his  knife,  saw  that  he  had  struck  the  rock  again, 
looked  meditatively  into  the  hole,  then  snapped  his  knife 
shut  and  went  along  witli  Klaus. 

Then  there  was  another  boy,  about  as  tall  as  Klaus,  but 
better  filled  out.  His  appearance  wasn't  especially  pre- 
possessing either.  All  the  time  that  Klaus  knew  him,  he 
had  a  hole  about  as  big  as  a  quarter  in  the  seat  of  his 
trousers,  a  little  on  one  side,  out  of  which  his  little  shirt- 
tail  was  always  peeping.  Every  five  minutes  or  so  he 
tucked  it  in  again  unconsciously,  from  a  painful  sense  of 
neatness  that  he  professed  to  have.  Having  come  just  a 
year  before  from  a  large  estate  on  the  Russian  border,  he 
was  disposed  to  mistake  every  well-dressed  man  for  a 
baron ;  and  he  grabbed  at  his  cap  every  time  a  fairly 
good  looking  carriage  came  along.  But  he  had  brought 
with  him  one  important  asset ;  he  knew  how  to  obey  in 
silence.  The  third  retainer  was  a  pretty,  pale  fellow,  the 
son  of  a  truckman.  He  consistently  stopped  at  every 
corner  to  see  whether  his  father's  wagon  might  not  be 
coming.  He  had  a  great  desire  to  learn,  and  had  a  good 
head;  this  accounted  for  his  reverence  for  Klaus  Baas, 
who  could  answer  so  quickly  in  school,  and  who  some- 
times helped  him.  So  he  followed  him.  But  when  he 
saw  his  father's  wagon  coming,  he  preferred,  in  spite  of 
the  sloppy  March  weather,  to  sit  up  on  the  wagon  beside 
the  little  watch-dog.  There  he  sat,  clad  in  the  Iceland 
jacket  that  his  big  burly  father  always  kept  in  the  w"agon 
on  the  chance  of  meeting  him. 

It  certainly  was  not  a  splendid  following,  but  a  follow- 
ing it  was.  And  it  obeyed  him  without  a  word.  While 
these  privates  talked  a  great  deal  and  very  boastfully  to- 
gether, he,  as  befitted  a  general,  marched  silently  ahead, 
issuing  his  directions  laconically. 

On  one  of  their  expeditions  they  were  walking  toward 
the    harbor,    toward   evening    on   a  wet   day   in  March. 


50  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Looking  and  listening,  as  children  do,  at  everything,  they 
went  along  to  the  Rosenbriicke,  where  at  that  time  of  day 
people  stand  around  looking  for  work  for  the  night.  Sud- 
denly Klaus  spied  a  short,  brown  Southerner,  standing  alone 
near  the  iron  railing,  apart  from  the  crowd,  sharply  scan- 
ning the  harbor.  While  they  were  discussing  whether  the 
man  was  a  Hungarian  or  an  Italian,  and  were  going  closer 
to  him  curiously,  they  saw  a  plainly  dressed,  yellow 
bearded  man  pass  close  by  the  foreigner,  as  if  by  chance.^ 
At  the  very  instant  when  the  two  men  almost  touched 
and  suddenly  recognized  each  other,  the  yellow  bearded 
fellow  had  a  shining  whistle  between  his  lips  and  a 
revolver  in  his  raised  hand  ;  in  the  Southerner's  hand 
gleamed  the  cold,  sharp  steel  of  a  knife.  The  yellow 
bearded  man  whistled.  "  Put  that  knife  away — you  see 
you're  done  for,"  he  said  with  a  wave  of  his  hand.  An- 
other policeman  came  up.  The  dagger  fell  clattering  on 
the  pavement.  When  the  man  that  was  arrested  had 
been  searching  the  harbor,  his  face  had  been  sharp,  sharper 
than  the  very  blade  in  his  hand  ;  now  it  was  flat  and  re- 
laxed. Standing  there  as  if  he  were  in  a  bad  dream,  he 
let  the  policeman  snap  the  handcuffs  on,  and  went  along 
with  him. 

The  boys  went  up  through  the  Rodingsmarkt  toward 
home.  The  regiment  kept  conjecturing  about  the  awful- 
ness  of  the  crime  that  the  foreigner  might  have  com- 
mitted ;  they  were  so  glad  that  he  had  been  caught  just  in 
time.  Klaus  walked  silently  ahead,  moved  in  his  inner- 
most soul  by  all  kinds  of  imaginings  about  the  man. 

When  they  reached  the  Grossneumarkt,  they  found 
several  street  toughs  standing  there  in  front  of  one  of 
the  taverns.  One  of  them,  a  tall,  light,  good-looking 
fellow,  though  ragged  and  half  drunk,  struck  up  a  conver- 
sation with  them,  in  the  way  peculiar  to  his  kind,  most  of 
whom  are  children  all  their  lives.  The  truckman's  little 
son  answered,  and  told  them  what  they  had  just  seen. 
Klaus  held  back  —  for  the  time.  But  a  few  minutes  later 
he  was  leaning  up  against  the  wall  telling  the  little  circle 
of  toughs,  who  crowded  around  him,  how  this  Italian, 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  51 

somewhere  near  Milan,  had  killed  his  friend  in  a  fit  of 
sudden  rage  — while  they  were  drinking —  Klaus  had  once 
seen  a  picture  of  an  Italian  wineshop — how  he  had  fled 
that  same  night  —  up  the  river,  over  the  Alps,  hiding  by 
day  and  travelling  by  night,  until  he  reached  Hamburg; 
here  he  had  already  arranged  with  a  countryman,  a  sailor, 
to  go  on  board  to-night — far  over  the  sea — to  freedom. 
Then  at  the  very  last  moment  —  his  friend  was  just  com- 
ing for  him  with  the  boat,  indeed,  he  had  even  seen  it 
coming — he  had  had  the  most  frightful  and  horrible  mis- 
fortune ;  he  had  been  recognized  and  arrested.  Klaus 
told  the  story  with  gleaming  eyes  and  moving  gestures, 
painting  all  the  emotions  in  the  fugitive's  soul.  The 
toughs,  like  the  children  they  were,  treated  him  just  like 
an  equal,  and  raised  a  contention  with  him  about  the 
stor3%  The  tall  light  fellow,  especially,  capriciously  took 
the  opposite  side,  just  for  fun.  At  this  Klaus,  growing 
more  spirited,  rose  to  general  conclusions  of  great  wisdom, 
and  set  forth  distinctly  the  view  that  it  was  not  right  to 
persecute  criminals  that  were  fleeing  from  the  country  ; 
their  bad  conscience  and  their  homesickness  were  torment 
enough.  He  added  by  way  of  confirmation  tliat  he  had 
read  a  good  deal  about  this  subject,  and  had  thought 
about  it  even  more,  and  —  well  —  he  had  had  a  good  deal 
of  experience  himself. 

So  the  battle  of  words  went  on,  back  and  forth.  The 
regiment  stood  looking  on,  amazed  at  their  usually  taci- 
turn leader.  At  last  the  tall  light  fellow  called  Klaus 
"  an  honorable  and  clever  fellow,"  and  solemnly  invited 
him,  offering  his  hand  and  lifting  his  hat,  to  drink  a  glass 
of  kilmmel  with  him.  Then  Klaus  woke  up,  became  dazed 
and  confused,  and  said  that  he  had  to  go  home.  He 
started  at  once. 

When  he  got  home  he  was  very  quiet,  saying  nothing 
at  all  of  his  adventure.  It  happened  that  this  was  the 
first  night  he  had  slept  again  in  the  same  place  in  the 
room  and  the  same  place  in  the  bed  that  he  had  used  to 
sleep  in  with  Lotte.  Little  light-haired  Hanna  lay  beside 
him  now.     In  her  gentle  way  she   told  him  a  little  bit 


52  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

about  what  she  had  been  doing  all  day,  and  then  fell 
asleep.  He  lay  wide  awake  thinking,  "Now  if  Lotte 
were  lying  beside  me  she  would  say,  'Tell  a  story' — and 
then  !  "  He  saw  himself  leaning  against  the  tavern  wall, 
telling  one  lie  after  another.  How  could  he  possibly  have 
done  it?  He  ought  to  be  thoroughly  ashamed  of  himself, 
but  he  couldn't  quite  manage  to  be.  He  stared  scorn- 
fully into  the  darkness.  The  stupid  fools,  to  believe  all 
that  stuff.  But  he  certainly  had  told  it  pretty  well. 
Very  well,  in  fact.  And  he  hadn't  in  the  least  had  the 
feeling  that  he  was  lying.  It  really  seemed  to  him  as  if 
everything  had  actually  happened  —  now  that  was  queer  ! 
Just  as  he  used  to  be  carried  away  in  his  play  at  Heister- 
berg,  so  that  he  really  thought  he  was  the  czar  of  Russia, 
just  so  had  he  felt  when  he  was  telling  that  story  ! 
Strange  !  But  it  certainly  was  not  altogether  unscrupu- 
lous of  him.  He  must  watch  himself,  however.  What  if 
it  should  come  upon  him  at  home  or  in  school,  and  he 
should  begin  to  talk  along  that  way  ! 

He  lay  there,  staring  fixedly  into  the  darkness,  think- 
ing about  himself  for  the  first  time  in  his  life.  He  was 
divided  between  pride  and  anxiety,  but  —  the  others  cer- 
tainly couldn't  have  done  it ! 

And  in  this  way  a  consciousness  of  his  own  personality 
dawned  upon  him. 


CHAPTER   V 

One  afternoon  soon  after  this,  when  Klaus  came  home 
from  school,  he  found  his  father  lying  on  his  bed  asleep. 
He  went  back  to  the  kitchen,  where  his  mother  was  sit- 
ting at  her  sewing-machine,  and  asked,  in  great  surprise, 
"  What's  the  matter  with  father  ?  " 

Without  looking  up  from  her  work,  she  said  curtly, 
"Your  father's  side  hurts." 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  Klaus,  in  sudden  anxiety,  "  do 
you  think  he's  going  to  get  better  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  such  stupid  questions,"  she  answered,  with 
a  frown.     "  How  do  I  know  ?  " 

He  went  back  to  the  room,  and  sat  down  with  his  slate 
at  the  window,  where  there  was  still  a  little  bit  of  day- 
light ;  but  he  kept  looking  at  his  father,  who  was  lying 
with  his  face  to  the  wall,  sometimes  groaning  in  pain. 
What  if  his  father  should  die  !  But  he  had  always  been 
such  a  strong  man.  It  wasn't  likely — at  least,  he  had 
never  seen  or  heard  of  a  strong  man  like  his  father  dying. 
But  if  it  should  happen,  —  well,  it  would  be  a  dreary  pros- 
pect, and  he  could  never  be  a  teacher. 

After  a  little  while  his  father  turned  toward  him. 
"  Tell  me,  Klaus,"  he  said,  in  a  tired  voice,  "  have  you 
thought  much  about  what  you  want  to  be?" 

Klaus  was  startled  to  hear  his  father  speak  of  what  he 
himself  had  just  been  thinking.  "  If  it's  possible,  father," 
he  said,  "  I  want  to  be  a  teacher." 

Jan  Baas  was  silent  for  a  while.  "  If  I  don't  get  really 
well  again,  my  boy,"  he  said,  finally,  "  it  won't  be  possible. 
Of  course  your  mother  will  work  like  a  horse,  and  you 
won't  be  absolutely  poverty-stricken  ;  but  she  won't  be 
able  to  accomplish  that." 

63 


54  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

Klaus,  in  the  stoic  way  of  our  simple  folk,  accepted  the 
possibility  that  his  father  might  die.  "  If  that  happens," 
he  said  gently,  "  I'll  have  to  be  something  else." 

"  Well,  what  else,  my  boy  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Klaus,  after  a  few  moments  of  thinking, 
"  I  believe  I'll  be  a  storekeeper." 

"  Your  mother  can  probably  manage  that,"  his  father 
said.  "  You  must  tell  her  that  you  don't  care  a  thing 
about  teaching,  and  that  you  want  to  be  a  storekeeper 
above  everything  else.  If  you  don't,  Klaus,  she'll  sew  all 
night  long  so  that  you  can  be  a  teacher.  You  know  how 
she  is." 

"Yes,  father." 

"  I  guess  it  would  be  better  for  you  to  tell  her  that  now 
whenever  you  get  the  chance.  And  you'd  better  be  con- 
firmed next  Easter." 

"Yes,  father." 

"Well,  then,  that's  all  right  now,  Klaus." 

"Yes,  father."  Then  he  went  on,  in  a  courageous 
voice,  "  Do  you  know,  father,  I  really  think  it's  much 
better  for  me  to  work  with  my  hands.  I  think  being  busy 
around  the  store  will  be  great  fun.  I  believe  I'd  like  a 
hardware  store  better  than  any  other  kind." 

"  Well,  then  you  do  that,  Klaus.  And  now  that's  all 
settled." 

They  looked  at  each  other  uncertainly,  and  each  saw 
plainly  that  the  other  was  hiding  his  real  feelings.  But 
they  did  not  speak  of  it  again. 

A  week  later  his  father  was  sick  in  bed  again.  And  he 
was  in  bed  every  few  days  from  now  on.  He  came  home 
pale  and  cold,  with  the  sweat  standing  out  on  his  brow, 
and  lay  for  hours  in  dreadful  pain,  with  his  face  turned  to 
the  wall  so  that  they  couldn't  see  it.  When  the  pain 
became  a  little  easier  he  turned  from  the  wall,  and  in  spite 
of  the  clatter  of  the  machine  in  the  kitchen,  talked  away 
cheerfully  to  the  children,  sitting  or  standing  in  a  little 
group  by  the  window.  Once  in  a  ivhile  as  he  talked  his 
face  contracted  with  pain.  In  his  old  way,  he  would 
begin  to  joke  with  them,  somewhat  clumsily  and  partially, 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  55 

especially  as  he  always  praised  them  to  the  skies.  But  it 
was  always  effective,  because  his  face  and  voice  laughed 
and  livened  up  as  he  did  it.  "  Now  Fritz  and  Ernst  there," 
he  said  to  the  little  ones,  "  there's  a  couple  of  strong  fellows 
for  you.  Why,  they  could  tear  up  trees  by  the  roots. 
And  if  they  both  took  hold  together  and  gave  themselves 
up  to  it,  they  could  break  in  a  wall !  "  And  he  laughed 
his  hearty  laugh  when  they  believed  it,  and  swelled  out 
their  little  bellies  proudly  and  cried,  "Shall  we  do  it  now, 
father?"  To  little  tow-headed  Hanna,  who  now  took 
Lotte's  place  in  looking  after  the  house,  and  who  was 
exactly  like  her  in  her  cheery  friendliness,  he  said, 
*'  Hanna's  the  girl !  When  she's  grown  up  and  married 
she'll  make  the  finest  kind  of  soup  out  of  shavings  !  And 
dresses  —  why,  she'll  make  them  right  on  the  women  !  " 
Cute  little  Hanna  laughed.  "  I'll  go  right  down  and  get 
some  shavings,  father,"  she  said,  "  and  make  you  some 
soup."  To  Klaus  he  said,  "That  Klaus,  now — there's  a 
fellow  that  will  make  a  cashier — and  a  cashier's  a  pretty 
kind  of  a  fellow.  When  he's  a  storekeeper  one  of  these 
days,  and  wants  to  get  some  syrup,  he'll  fall  into  the 
barrel ;  and  when  the  boss  is  trying  to  pack  up  herring, 
he'll  put  his  apprentice  in  by  mistake."  "  Oh,  you  mean 
because  I'm  so  thin,  father,"  laughed  Klaus;  "but  I'm  not 
weak  for  all  that  —  I'm  quick  in  gymnastics,  I  can  just  tell 
you.  Just  you  keep  on  teasing ;  you'll  see  some  day  what 
kind  of  a  storekeeper  I'll  be." 

In  the  following  week,  Klaus,  waking  up  one  night, 
heard  the  humming  of  a  machine.  He  thought  it  must  be 
around  midnight,  and  he  lay  there  breathless,  thinking 
about  all  kinds  of  marvellous  creatures — elves  and  goblins 
and  such.  Then,  with  his  heart  thumping  hard,  he  got 
up,  went  through  the  kitchen,  and  looked  into  the  living- 
room.  His  mother  was  sitting  at  the  machine  sewing,  and 
her  face  looked  very  tired. 

He  went  back  to  bed,  and  lay  awake,  thinking  hard. 
So  far,  his  mother's  ability  and  careful  management  had 
kept  away  the  signs  of  poverty  ;  but  now  they  were  plain. 
His  father  was  bringing  in  almost  nothing,  and  rent,  coal, 


56  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

and  food  all  had  to  be  paid  for.  And  on  the  chest  stood 
all  kinds  of  salves  and  medicines  for  his  father.  Klaus 
realized  more  and  more  what  the  value  of  money  really  is, 
and  he  grew  terribly  worried. 

He  couldn't  get  to  sleep  again.  Early  in  the  morning  he 
got  up  and  went  straight  to  Kalli  Dau  to  ask  him  whether  he 
didn't  know  of  some  work  he  could  get  to  do,  as  errand 
boy  or  something  of  that  sort.  He  had  so  much  free 
time,  he  said,  that  he  really  didn't  know  what  to  do  with 
it. 

Kalli's  mother,  who,  even  as  early  as  this  was  dressed  in 
one  of  her  gay  waists,  looked  up  at  once  in  surprise. 
"  Are  you  looking  for  a  place  ?  "  she  said  ;  "  is  it  as  bad  as 
that?  Why,  you  can  just  help  here  with  us;  you  can 
help  us  make  wreaths  in  the  back  room  there." 

Kalli  Dau  pushed  by  his  mother  with  his  coffee-cup 
and  bit  of  stale  bread  in  his  hand.  "  Cgme  on,"  he  said 
to  Klaus;  "where  she  is  you  can't  get  in  a  single  sensible 
word." 

In  spite  of  the  showery  April  weather,  they  sat  down 
on  the  bench  outside  the  shop  window  while  Kalli  Dau 
set  forth  the  possibilities.  "Last  autumn,"  he  began, 
"  I  delivered  milk  for  half  a  year  so  she  could  buy  herself 
some  new  waists.  But  there's  nothing  in  that.  You 
have  to  be  up  at  five,  and  you  have  to  be  going  up  and 
down  stairs  eternally  with  your  load.  Look  here  at  my 
right  leg  —  see?  It's  a  little  crooked,  all  on  account  of 
that  blamed  milk.  And  the  scoldings  you  get!  Some- 
times you've  brought  too  little  and  sometimes  too  much. 
Sometimes  you've  brought  the  wrong  pail,  and  sometimes 
you've  slopped  it  over.  Well,  now,  if  we  can't  find  any- 
thing else,  you're  pretty  sure  to  be  able  to  get  something 
to  do  at  Losch's,  the  teamster's,  in  Wex  Strasse.  He 
needs  a  boy  mornings  and  evenings  to  curry  the  horses, 
wash  the  wagons,  sweep,  clean  the  harness,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing." 

They  went  there  at  once  and  found  the  proprietor  and 
several  workmen  standing  out  in  the  stable  yard  among 
all  kinds  of  teams,  wagons,  cribs,  and  sacks  of  fodder. 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  67 

Kalli  Dau  and  Losch  the  teamster  were  old  acquaint- 
ances— at  least  Kalli  talked  to  him  as  if  he  were  an  old 
drayman  himself.  The  upshot  was  that  Klaus  Baas  was 
engaged  at  the  rate  of  twelve  cents  a  day,  to  work  five 
hours  a  day,  two  in  the  mornings  and  three  in  the 
evenings,  with  supper  thrown  in. 

It  was  frightfully  hard  for  him  to  get  up  at  five.  He 
hadn't  nearly  had  his  sleep  out,  and  it  was  dark  as  pitch, 
and  so  cold.  But  something  in  his  mother's  voice  when 
she  called  him  simply  made  him  get  up  at  once.  His 
little  bed-fellow  sat  up  in  bed  rubbing  her  eyes  and  beg- 
ging pitifully  to  be  allowed  to  sleep  just  a  little  longer. 
But  Klaus  seized  her  without  a  word  and  set  her  on  her 
feet.  Staggering  with  sleepiness,  they  silently  put  on 
their  clothes  in  the  darkness,  went  out  to  the  kitchen,  and 
washed  in  the  basin.  Their  mother  herself  attended  to 
combing  their  hair.  Little  Hanna  clasped  both  hands 
around  the  rod  of  the  fireplace  to  brace  herself  to  bear 
the  terrible  wet  fine  comb  as  it  passed  from  her  forehead 
all  the  way  over  her  head.  They  ate  their  breakfast 
standing  around  the  fireplace;  their  mother  was  already 
at  the  machine.  Then  Hanna  went  about  the  housework 
and  Klaus  groped  his  way  downstairs. 

The  work  was  not  exactly  hard,  but  he  had  to  be  on 
his  feet  all  the  time.  He  had  to  sweep  some  of  the  stable 
yard  —  that  was  clean  work  ;  he  had  to  harness  a  team  — 
that  meant  moving  pretty  quick ;  he  had  to  throw  down 
the  straw — and  that  was  fun.-  But  it  was  not  so  much 
fun  when  he  had  to  curry  five  or  six  big  horses  standing 
motionless  in  the  low  dark  stalls.  What  if  the  very 
horse  on  which  he  was  working  should  suddenly  get  wild 
and  kick  out  violently  before  and  behind ;  where  would 
he  jump  to  save  himself?  He  imagined  everything  that 
would  happen  if  fire  should  suddenly  break  out  —  and  what 
he  would  probably  have  to  do  if  it  did.  Or,  he  thought 
out  complete  pictures  of  things  that  would  happen  in  the 
future.  He  saw  himself  living  in  Heisterberg  again  — 
for  his  imaginings  of  the  future  always  went  back  to  the 
village.     He  was  grown  up  —  a  teacher,  or  a  storekeeper, 


58  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

and  he  saw  himself  strolling  around  the  country  talking 
discreetly  with  an  acquaintance  here  and  there,  just  as  he 
had  often  heard  men  talking  on  the  village  street.  And 
then  he  saw  himself  going  home  —  to  a  stately  looking 
house  on  the  main  street,  with  windows  lighted  up,  and 
his  father,  mother,  wife  and  children  all  standing  at  the 
windows  waiting  for  him.  Sometimes,  when  everything 
in  the  yard  happened  to  be  quiet  for  a  time,  the  pictures 
vanished  into  thin  air,  and  he  fell  asleep  resting  against 
the  horse,  his  upraised  arm  still  holding  the  brush.  And 
there  he  slej)t  till  a  loud  voice  or  a  wagon  rumbling  into 
the  yard  awakened  him  with  a  start. 

He  liked  several  of  the  old  drivers  very  much.  He 
enjoyed  helping  them  and  being  with  them,  because  they 
worked  around  among  all  those  big  beasts  and  heavy 
harnesses  so  calmly  and  surely.  And  he  liked  to  listen 
to  their  slow  talk,  mostly  about  the  peculiarities  of  the 
horses  and  the  condition  of  the  loads  and  the  roads.  He 
liked  it  still  better  when  they  talked  about  farming  in 
Holstein  or  in  Mecklenburg,  where  they  had  come  from, 
or  about  their  brothers  and  sisters  in  America.  Occa- 
sionally they  talked  about  their  wives  and  children.  No 
matter  what  it  was  about,  they  talked  along  simply  and 
naturally,  easily,  and  without  the  least  excitement.  And, 
as  usual,  Klaus's  young  and  impressionable  spirit,  busily 
devising  great  and  varied  backgrounds  for  everything  he 
saw  or  heard,  took  the  greatest  joy  in  all  that  they  said. 

But  two  of  the  younger  men  there  had  an  ugly  liking 
for  vulgar  words,  using  them  especially  for  the  docile 
horses.  They  were  fond,  too,  of  telling  obscene  stories; 
and  early  in  the  morning,  particularly,  they  made  a  prac- 
tice of  unloading  everything  they  had  heard  in  the  pot- 
house the  night  before. 

Kaiser  Wilhelm  Strasse,  on  which  the  yard  faced,  was 
at  that  time  still  occupied  by  a  number  of  low  old  frame 
houses  with  pointed  gables,  over  which  the  sun  shone 
into  the  yard  early  in  the  morning.  In  the  spring  sun- 
shine the  heavy  wagons,  the  men  going  busily  to  and  fro, 
and  the  big  dray  horses  coming  slowly  and  heavily  out 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  59 

of  the  big  door,  made  a  striking  and  impressive  picture 
of  human  activities.  Khius  took  great  joy  in  being  in  it 
all,  in  working  around,  alert  and  deft.  But  when  the 
two  common  fellows  were  there,  filling  the  yard  with 
their  rough  talk,  and  calling  back  and  forth  with  their 
curses  and  evil  stories,  which  Klaus  had  to  listen  to 
whether  he  wanted  to  or  not,  it  was  quite  different. 
The  pure  simple  joy  that  had  unconsciously  filled  his 
heart  was  gone. 

While  things  were  going  on  in  just  this  way,  Klaus 
wished  one  morning,  as  he  had  wished  a  good  many  times 
before,  that  both  the  fellows  would  vanish  from  the  yard 
by  sudderL  death  or  any  other  means.  Indeed,  he  even 
made  a  sudden,  vehement  prayer  to  God  for  it  —  although 
he  was  not  on  intimate  terms  with  God  then.  After  he 
had  made  this  prayer,  it  happened  that  one  of  the  men 
made  a  mocking  remark  to  the  proprietor's  wife  and  was 
discharged  at  once.  Soon  after  that  the  other  one  began 
to  load  a  cart  with  hay,  which  one  of  the  older  men 
stacked  up.  When  the  cart  was  full  he  fastened  the 
beam  in  front  and  began  to  fasten  it  behind.  In  doing 
so,  he  leaned  his  whole  weight  on  it.  The  knot  in  front 
broke  and  the  beam  and  the  man  tumbled  over  backwards. 
He  fell  heavily  to  the  stone  pavement,  where  he  lay 
unconscious. 

This  sudden  event  horrified  Klaus's  sensitive  soul  be- 
yond all  bounds.  He  let  his  brush  fall  and  hurried  home 
as  fast  as  he  could.  There,  trembling  in  every  limb,  he 
told  them  what  he  had  been  through,  and  declared  that 
he  could  never  go  there  again. 

For  several  days  he  hung  around  the  house  and  the 
courtyard,  constantly  haunted  by  that  awful  sight.  And 
the  recollection  of  his  prayer  added  particularly  to  his 
suffering.  His  conventional  religious  teaching  had  not 
helped  him  in  any  way  to  find  even  the  conception  of 
truth  and  beauty  that  lies  hid  under  its  worthless  rubble; 
indeed,  it  had  only  hindered  and  suppressed  the  natural 
silent  longing  of  his  soul  to  find  a  piety  of  its  own. 
And  no  one  had  helped  him  in  any  other  way  to  find  out 


60  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

whether  there  was  not  some  mystery  behind  all  actual 
things.  The  result  was  that  in  these  deepest  emotions 
his  soul  was  thoroughly  unprepared  —  quite  ignorant. 
That  fervent  prayer  in  the  yard  had  come  from  a  heart 
that  without  knowing  it  lived  —  as  many  other  people 
live  —  among  ancient  pagan  ideas.  He  felt  that  he  was 
involved  in  the  matter,  because  by  his  wish  and  his 
prayer  he  had  set  on  these  men  the  evil  powers  that  had 
brought  about  the  accident.  And  now  those  spirits  might 
easily  be  on  the  lookout  for  him,  to  demand  his  gratitude, 
or  perhaps  to  make  him  follow  them  ;  or  maybe,  after  they 
had  once  tasted  blood,  they  would  want  his,  too. 

But  the  next  day,  when  his  father  came  home  sick  again, 
Klaus's  fear  of  the  evil  spirits  paled  before  the  plainly  visible 
trouble  at  home,  and  he  had  to  go  out  to  find  work  again. 
He  had  a  vague  notion  that  he  must  find  a  more  reiined 
sort  of  work,  where  he  would  be  safe  from  rougli  talk  and 
horrible  accidents.  He  pictured  to  himself  a  nice  clean 
room  in  which  he  had  pleasant  work  to  do.  He  would 
certainly  be  able  to  hold  his  own  in  a  place  like  that. 

He  put  on  his  Sunday  jacket  and  Avent  out.  He  peered 
into  the  flower  shop  and  then  into  the  bedroom,  where  he 
found  Kalli  Dau  applying  cold  cloths  to  his  little  brother, 
who  was  sick  in  bed.  He  was  scolding  away  at  his  brother 
Jonni,  who  had  stolen  some  money  out  of  his  pocket  and 
was  on  the  way  to  drink  it  up.  "  And  the  old  man's  run- 
ning after  some  woman  or  other,"  Kalli  said,  "and  the  old 
woman's  gossiping  with  the  coal  woman  next  door."  He 
sat  there  hunched  up,  rubbing  his  thin  brown  hands  be- 
tween his  kuees.  "  Our  family's  a  rotten  lot,"  he  said ; 
"  I  can  just  tell  you  that." 

Klaus  Baas  drew  back  toward  the  door.  He  had  given 
up  his  place  at  the  drayman's,  he  said,  and  wanted  to  find 
another  place  now  just  as  soon  as  he  could.  Kalli  Dau 
came  out  with  him  at  once,  and  went  with  him  to  the  tav- 
ern at  the  corner.  Here  he  nodded  to  the  maid,  whom  he 
knew,  and  asked  her  for  a  newspaper.  After  he  had  cooled 
his  little  brother's  forehead  again,  and  had  sold  a  gay  tulip 
—  putting  the  money  in  his  own  pocket  —  they  sat  down 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  61 

at  the  counter  to  look  through  the  newspaper.  After  a 
while  Klaus  IJaas  pointed  to  an  advertisement,  and  said 
critically,  "What  do  you  think  about  this?"  Kalli  Dau 
bent  over  and  read  that  the  artist  Laura  Morgenstern,  who 
lived  on  the  Neuenwall,  wanted  a  handy  boy  to  help  in  all 
kinds  of  work. 

They  let  the  paper  drop  and  looked  at  each  other. 
Neither  of  them  could  make  much  out  of  it.  An  artist 
—  what  was  that?     And  a  woman,  into  the  bargain. 

Just  then  a  waiter  came  along  the  street,  one  of  Kalli 
Dan's  many  acquaintances.  He  called  him  in  to  ask  for 
information.  But  the  waiter  only  confused  matters  more. 
He  thought  that  it  was  likely  that  she  painted  naked  men 
and  that  she  would  make  Klaus  take  off  his  clothes  at  once 
and  paint  him.  And  as  the  man  hurried  out,  he  made  a 
face  to  indicate  that  the  Lord  only  knew  what  was  to  be 
expected  from  such  as  she. 

But,  said  Kalli  Dau,  what  of  it,  if  it  was  so?  Horses 
certainl}'^  ran  around  naked,  and  for  that  matter  everybody 
was  naked  under  his  shirt.  And  how  many  clothes  did 
the  women  walking  around  St.  Pauli  wear? 

Klaus  Baas  sat  sunk  in  deep  thought.  A  woman  that 
painted  naked  men?  Well,  after  all  —  even  if  she  did 
make  him  take  off  his  clothes,  and  even  if  she  got  angry 
and  threw  her  brush  at  his  head,  still  it  would  certainly 
be  better  than  staying  at  a  place  where  a  man  cursed  so 
horribly,  and  finally  fell  to  his  death.  And  Laura  Mor- 
genstern's  house  certainly  had  a  door  which  he  could  keep 
a  close  eye  on,  and  tear  out  of  if  it  looked  as  if  anything 
dreadful  were  going  to  happen. 

He  slid  down  from  the  counter  and  said  that  he  was 
going  there  right  away.     Kalli  Dau  went  with  him. 

They  climbed  up  three  flights  of  steps  in  an  old  house 
on  the  Neuenwall,  and  stood  in  front  of  the  door.  Kalli 
Dau  opened  it.  At  once  they  heard  a  strong,  rather  rum- 
bling voice  from  the  next  room  ask  who  was  there.  They 
both  drew  back  from  the  door  a  little  and  Kalli  Dau  said 
loudly,  "The  errand-boy." 

A  wardrobe  or  a  huge  chair  moved  inside.    Heavy  steps 


62  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

came  toward  them.  The  door  opened,  and  an  elderly 
woman  stood  before  them.  She  was  tall  and  large,  and  had 
her  spectacles  low  down  on  her  nose.  Looking  over  her 
glasses  at  the  two  boys,  she  said  curtly,  "  Which  one  is  it?" 

"  That  one  there,"  said  Kalli,  with  his  usual  assurance. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  and  what  are  you  doing  here?  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Kalli,  "  I  just  came  along." 

Laura  Morgenstern  pointed  down  the  stairs  with  her 
big  palette,  and  Kalli  Dau  vanished  without  a  word. 
"  Come  in,"  she  said  to  Klaus. 

She  went  in,  sat  down  on  the  big  chair,  leaned  back  in 
it,  and  looked  sharply  over  her  glasses  toward  something 
at  which  Klaus  didn't  dare  to  look.  Then  she  looked 
through  her  glasses  at  a  stretched  canvas  about  a  yard 
square.  With  her  arm  stretched  straight  out,  she  gave 
a  gentle  little  dab  at  it  with  her  brush.  Without  look- 
ing at  him,  she  asked  him  his  name,  where  he  was  born, 
whether  his  father  and  mother  were  living,  if  he  had  any 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  whether  he  went  to  school.  He 
answered  all  her  questions  slowly  and  distinctly,  with  a 
certain  solemnity,  too.  While  he  was  talking  she  gazed 
around  the  room,  now  and  then  putting  a  stroke  on  the 
canvas. 

Then  she  turned  around  and  looked  at  him  sharply. 
After  she  had  looked  a  while  she  said,  *'What  do  you 
think,  Tuddi  ?  I  really  believe  we  could  make  use  of 
him  for  a  picture.  Just  look  at  his  good  little  Low 
German  nose.  And  his  mouth  has  a  sort  of  strength 
you  don't  often  see.  The  whole  line  of  his  head  shows 
good  blood.  Turn  around  that  way,"  she  said,  pointing 
into  the  room  with  her  brush. 

Turning  around,  he  saw  a  girl  about  twelve  years  old 
sitting  in  a  big  brown  chair  with  a  high  back.  She  had 
on  a  short  blue  dress,  her  long  legs  were  carelessly  crossed, 
and  she  had  a  heavy  old  Bible  in  her  lap.  A  long  black 
wig  framed  her  energetic  little  face.  Over  her  shoulder 
hung  a  red  robe,  fastened  in  front  with  a  big  old  coin  on 
a  gold  chain.  She  sat  there  quite  motionless,  like  a  tiny 
goddess. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  63 

"  He  looks  like  an  old  German,"  she  said,  looking  at 
Klaus  Baas.  "  But  that  doesn't  make  any  difference. • 
You  can  use  him  just  the  same.  He'll  have  to  have  a 
brown  wig  and  draw  his  face  down  a  little  —  then  he 
can  represent  one  perfectly  well  —  one  of  the  little  ones, 
of  course.     Have  him  for  Hosea  —  or  Micah." 

"  No,"  said  the  artist,  going  on  with  her  painting, 
"  Hosea  and  Micah  won't  do.  I  tell  you,  now,  all  words 
ending  in  a  are  feminine.  I  don't  care  what  your  pastor 
says  about  it,  or  your  teacher,  or  you  yourself.  Hosea 
and  Micah  were  feminine.     But  he  can  be  Malachi." 

"  All  right,"  the  little  girl  said.  "  But  for  goodness' 
sake  tell  him  what  we're  talking  about.  He'll  soon  be 
looking  as  if  he  hadn't  any  sense  at  all." 

Leaning  back  in  her  chair,  the  artist  looked  sharply  at 
her  model.  Then,  straightening  her  arm,  she  put  a  light 
stroke  on  the  canvas.  "  Well,"  she  said  in  her  deep  voice, 
"  w'e'll  have  to  tell  him  a  little  about  it.  You  see,  the  old 
pastor  of  Hogerupp,  up  there  in  Schleswig,  and  his  wife, 
want  to  tack  up  the  apostles  and  prophets  in  their  church, 
and  we're  at  it  now.  That  one  tliere,"  she  added,  point- 
ing with  the  brush,  "  is  Obadiah,  and  you  can  be  Malachi. 
Now  you  take  the  basin  off  the  stove,  put  it  there  on  the 
table,  and  wash  the  brushes  there.  Yes,  that's  the  way. 
I  took  old  men  for  my  models  at  first,  and  had  fifteen  of 
them  all  done.  Then  the  pastor  and  his  wife  came  —  plain 
old  folks  they  are  —  and  they  looked  at  the  work,  and  were 
satisfied,  too,  as  far  as  I  had  gone.  But  they  thought  the 
rest  ought  to  be  young  people,  for  a  number  of  the  glorious 
company  had  certainly  been  somewhere  around  twenty. 
And  then,  too,  they  thought  that  some  of  the  old  ones  I 
had  done  did  not  look  so  very  holy  and  inspired.  Open 
your  eyes  a  little  wider,  Tuddi  —  you're  always  forgetting 
that.  Well,  now,  I  haven't  got  a  bit  of  imagination, 
especially  in  religious  matters.  I'm  no  saint  myself,  and 
I've  never  even  met  one.  And  the  pastor  isn't  one  either, 
for  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he's  in  very  good  circumstances 
he'll  pay  only  a  hundred  marks  apiece.  Then  I  got  the 
idea  of  setting  the  youngster  there  up  on  the  chair  and 


64  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

dressing  her  up  a  bit.  She  isn't  any  saint,  either  —  she's 
a  rogue  and  a  terror,  but  still,  being  a  child,  she's  more 
like  one  than  the  rest  of  us.  Open  your  eyes  wide,  Tuddi, 
and  think  of  Norderney  or  Sylt,  or  anywhere  else  you  go 
in  the  summer.  Think  of  all  the  heavenly  things  you 
have  there,  or  else  try  to  look  as  if  you  were  seeing  the 
heavenly  hosts." 

"  Mercy  on  us.  Aunt  Laura,"  said  the  little  girl,  "  how 
you  do  rumble  on.  Say,  can't  he  be  Habbakuk?  Just  see 
how  strange  he  looks,  and  how  much  suffering  there  is  in 
his  eyes.  Habbakuk  certainly  had  eyes  like  that  —  they 
fit  the  name.  Shall  I  just  read  you  a  few  verses  out  of 
Habbakuk?" 

The  artist  shook  her  head.  "We're  at  Obadiah  now," 
she  said.  "  Suppose  3^ou  read  a  few  verses  out  loud,  so  we 
can  get  into  the  mood  again." 

The  little  girl  raised  the  book  a  little  on  her  knee  and 
read  slowly  in  her  high  childish  voice  :  — 

" '  But  thou  shouldest  not  have  looked  on  the  day  of 
thy  brother  in  the  day  that  he  became  a  stranger  ;  neither 
shouldest  thou  have  rejoiced  over  the  children  of  Judah  in 
the  day  of  their  destruction ;  neither  shouldest  thou  have 
spoken  proudly  in  the  day  of  distress.'  " 

Laura  Morgenstern  painted  away  with  her  arm  at  full 
length ;  the  little  girl  in  the  wig  and  the  red  cloak  alter- 
nately opened  her  eyes  wide  and  read  a  verse ;  and  Klaus 
Baas  washed  the  brushes.  Once,  when  he  cast  a  quick, 
shy  glance  at  the  girl,  who  seemed  to  him  incredibly  lovely 
and  strange,  she  stuck  out  her  tongue,  quick  as  lightning. 
Of  course,  then,  he  simply  had  to  look  again  —  he  couldn't 
help  it.  And  again  the  end  of  the  tongue  appeared  like  a 
flash.     Then  he  looked  down  quickly  at  the  brushes. 

"  Don't  put  up  with  that,"  said  the  artist,  in  her  easy, 
monotonous  way,  painting  busily  all  the  time.  "  You  do 
it  right  back  at  her." 

"  Just  let  him  try  it  !  "  said  the  little  girl,  just  as 
calmly  and  angrily,  as  she  put  on  her  wide-eyed,  saintly 
look. 

Klaus  felt  unutterably  confused  and  helpless,  but  at  the 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  65 

same  time  very  happy  and  safe.  He  washed  the  brushes 
and  squeezed  them  out,  and  every  now  and  then  he  looked 
up  at  both  of  them. 

A  neat  maid  came  for  the  little  girl,  and  she  went  away 
with  a  haughty,  aggressive  look  at  him.  Then  he  had 
to  go  out  into  the  other  room  and  the  kitchen  and  do  all 
kinds  of  things.  All  the  time  the  artist  talked  on  in  the 
same  rumbling  way,  and  was  just  as  nice  as  before.  He 
ate  supper  with  her  in  the  little  kitchen,  and  then  he  was 
dismissed. 

When  he  got  home  he  found  that  his  father  had  just 
got  to  sleep  after  a  severe  attack  of  his  pain.  A  squat 
little  woman  was  consulting  with  his  mother  about  the 
making  of  a  dress  for  her  silver  wedding.  He  told  Hanna 
about  everything,  word  for  word.  He  was  full  of  it  all  — 
picturing  to  himself  just  how  it  would  be  the  next  day, 
and  from  then  on.  He  told  Hanna  twice  that  he  must 
put  on  his  best  jacket  the  next  day,  too  —  of  course.  He 
couldn't  go  to  his  new  place  with  a  ragged  jacket.  "  It's 
a  very  special  job,"  he  said,  "  one  where  you've  got  to 
behave  very  nicely." 


CHAPTER   VI 

And  now,  from  early  morning  on,  Klaus  was  longing 
for  the  moment  to  come  when  school  would  be  out  and 
he  could  put  on  his  best  coat  and  go  to  the  artist's.  He 
didn't  notice  that  his  father  was  at  home  almost  every  day 
now,  sitting,  pale  and  dull,  by  the  kitchen  window,  with  a 
quilt  over  his  thin,  sharp  knees.  When  he  handed  over 
the  three  marks  that  Laura  Morgenstern  gave  him  every 
Saturday  to  his  mother,  he  didn't  notice  how  eagerly  she 
seized  them,  or  how  thin  her  hand  was.  His  very  life  was 
bound  up  in  the  keen  joy  he  felt  in  those  three  hours 
every  day  that  he  could  spend  in  the  same  room  with  the 
big,  growling  woman  and  the  pretty,  pert  girl  in  the  red 
mantle  and  the  black  wig. 

Laura  Morgenstern  droned  along  about  everything  that 
came  into  her  head,  either  from  the  questions  they  asked 
or  from  what  was  read  aloud. 

"  Now  I'm  finding  out  at  last  what's  in  the  Bible,"  she 
said,  "and  I  must  say  there's  a  lot  of  nonsense  in  it. 
Take  this  Obadiah,  for  instance.  Can  you  understand 
how  he  can  help  us  nowadays  ?  What  has  he  got  to  do 
with  my  sins  or  my  worries  ?  " 

"  Have  you  any  worries,  Aunt  Laura  ?  "  asked  the  girl 
in  the  red  wig. 

"  Of  course  I  have,"  she  growled.     "  Everybody  has." 

Klaus  stared  at  her.  "  Why  should  she  have  any  wor- 
ries?" he  wondered.  "She  is  well,  and  she  has  money. 
What's  she  talking  about  worries  for  ?  " 

Sometimes,  lost  in  thought,  the  artist  worked  away 
eagerly,  her  face  set  and  earnest.  It  was  easy  to  see 
that  her  thoughts  were  far  away ;  usually  she  was  think- 
ing about  her  old  home  and  her  childhood.     She  seemed 

66 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  67 

to  be  brooding  and  pondering  over  some  difficulty  or 
trouble,  and  to  want  to  hold  Christianity  responsible 
for  it. 

"My  father  was  a  teacher,  Klaus,"  she  said;  "he  was 
earnest  and  industrious,  and  I  tell  you,  he  was  pious,  but 
all  those  Bible  lessons  —  and  there  were  a  lot  of  them  — 
the  texts  and  the  hymns,  and  all  the  other  church  stuff 
that  was  thrown  in,  —  all  that  didn't  do  us  any  good  at 
all.  We  children  turned  out  just  the  way  we  would  have 
without  all  those  thousand  Bible  lessons ;  one  of  us  —  I 
mean  myself  —  became  a  whimsical,  grumbling  old  crea- 
ture ;  another  of  us  — "  she  turned  a  little  and  looked 
more  sharply  at  the  small,  fine  face  under  the  black  wig  — 
"  Klaus,  do  you  think  that  religion  can  change  a  person's 
real  nature  ?  " 

"Yes,"  Klaus  said,  "we  are  told  that  it  changed 
Paul's." 

"  Get  away  with  your  Paul !  "  she  said.  "  Talk  about 
Laura  Morgenstern  and  Klaus  Baas  and  Losch  the  team- 
ster, and  people  like  that." 

Klaus  frowned.  "  Well,"  he  said,  seriously,  "  if  you 
read  the  most  beautiful  things  in  the  Bible  out  loud  to 
somebody,  he'll  get  more  pious  and  earnest,  that's  what  I 
believe." 

"  Oh,  really,"  she  said,  "  so  that's  what  you  believe  ! " 
She  turned  clear  around  and  said,  "  Your  eyes  look  nice 
now,  Tuddi !  I  imagine  ( )badiah's  eyes  looked  just  like 
that  when  he  was  getting  hell  hot  for  his  people." 

"  Well,"  the  girl  said  angrily,  "  why  do  you  keep  talk- 
ing to  that  stupid  youngster  as  if  I  weren't  here  ?  Does 
he  know  more  than  I  do  ?  " 

Tlie  girl  in  the  black  wig  —  her  curly  light  hair  crept 
out  from  under  it  sometimes  —  was  always  cross  at  him  ; 
her  anger,  however,  made  him  feel  vigorous  and  cheerful, 
and  to  be  mocked  at  by  her  made  him  feel  haughtier. 

"  He's  awfully  tiresome  to-day,  auntie  ! "  she  said.  "  He 
surely  is  run  down  !     Do  wind  him  up  again  !  " 

He  looked  at  her  scornfully. 

Then  she  looked  back  "  with  saintly  eyes  "  at  the  artist. 


68  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

After  a  while  she  looked  at  Klaus  and  said  imperiously, 
"  Bring  me  the  footstool !  " 

He  brought  the  stool  and  put  it  under  her  feet,  saying 
in  a  low,  defiant  tone,  "If  you  weren't  being  painted,  I 
wouldn't  have  brought  it." 

The  artist  heard  him.  "Don't  you  mind  about  her 
being  painted,  Klaus !  If  she  doesn't  ask  you  politely, 
don't  you  do  it.  At  home  she  can  boss  the  maid  around ; 
but  here  she's  got  to  be  polite." 

The  next  day  the  little  hypocrite  said,  "  Please  bring 
me  the  footstool."  When  he  went  to  put  it  under  her 
feet  —  she  was  staring  at  the  painter  with  great  soulful 
eyes  —  she  put  her  foot  down,  not  on  the  stool,  but  on  his 
neck,  and  pushed  his  head  down.  He  seized  her  foot  in 
his  thin  hand,  set  it  firmly  on  the  stool,  and  held  it  there  a 
while. 

Then  she  wholly  forgot  her  sanctified  pose.  She  stuck 
out  her  head  and  hissed  at  him  furiously.  She  called  this 
"showing  her  teeth  like  a  tiger."  It  seemed  to  be  her 
last  resource. 

But  he  calmly  looked  her  straight  in  the  eye,  angry  and 
yet  delighted  that  her  face  was  so  near. 

One  day,  when  he  was  in  the  kitchen  before  the  sit- 
ting had  begun,  the  doorbell  rang  without  his  hearing  it. 
Hearing  a  light  step  behind  him,  he  turned  around  and 
saw  a  little  six-year-old  girl.  He  recognized  her  at  once 
as  Tuddi's  sister ;  she  had  the  same  delicate  body  and 
finely  cut  head,  and  her  upper  lip,  too,  was  too  short  to 
cover  her  teeth.  Without  saying  a  word,  she  held  out  a 
little  white  milk  bottle,  with  a  rubber  nipple  on  it.  He 
looked  at  the  delicate  little  creature  in  amazement,  and 
asked  what  she  wanted  him  to  do. 

Then  it  was  her  turn  to  be  surprised.  She  shook  her 
head  at  such  a  stupid  Jack,  and  held  out  the  bottle  again, 
saying,  "Warm  it."  Then  he  understood.  He  put  the 
bottle  in  warm  water  and  stood  looking  down  at  the  little 
thing  beside  him,  so  delicate,  and  so  finely  finished.  Sur- 
prised, and  entirely  unsuspecting,  Klaus  asked,  "  Who's 
to  have  the  milk  ?  " 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  69 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  great  questioning  eyes. 
Then  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  conviction,  "  You  really  are 
as  stupid  as  Tuddi  says  you  are  !  " 

He  said  no  more,  but  stood  there  wondering  whether 
young  ones  in  the  city  were  kept  on  the  bottle  so  long. 
He  could  hardly  wait  till  the  milk  was  warm  to  see.  He 
gave  her  the  bottle  and  followed  her  into  the  studio, 
where  work  had  already  begun. 

The  artist,  leaning  back  in  her  big  chair,  was  looking 
sharply  over  her  spectacles  at  the  model,  and  then  putting 
cautious  strokes  on  the  canvas  with  her  long  stiff  arm. 
Obadiah,  in  the  red  mantle,  sat  with  her  legs  crossed, 
her  gray  eyes  fixed  on  the  artist.  The  child  was  sitting 
at  a  low  table  on  one  side,  on  which  were  a  lot  of  loose 
blue  beads,  and  a  long  black  string  on  which  they  were  to 
be  strung.  She  hadn't  begun  her  work  yet,  but  sat  there 
sucking  at  her  bottle,  leaning  back  in  her  chair  with  her 
legs  crossed,  just  like  her  sister,  and  looking  at  Klaus 
earnestly. 

Now  it  was  even  more  pleasant  in  the  bright,  clean 
studio.  The  friendly  chatter  didn't  stop  for  a  moment. 
Sometimes,  if  she  were  just  urged  to  it,  the  artist  talked 
on  and  on. 

"  Did  you  use  to  play.  Aunt  Laura,"  the  children 
asked,  "  when  you  were  as  old  as  we  are  ?  Tell  us  about 
it." 

"Did  we  play?"  she  said.  "Of  course  we  did!"  It 
seemed  as  if  a  soft  hand  had  passed  over  her  gruff  old 
face.  "  Did  we  play !  —  we  used  to  live  next  to  the 
minister's,  and  we  were  allowed  to  play  all  we  wanted  to 
in  his  old,  overgrown  garden.  At  the  far  end  of  it  there 
was  a  grassy  mound.  From  it  we  could  see  away  off  into 
the  country.  This  mound  was  our  brother's  exclusive 
property  "  —  she  looked  scrutinizingly  at  the  work  on  the 
canvas ;  then  she  went  on  more  gently,  "  we  had  a  little 
brother,  a  pretty ,  light-haired  youngster ;  he  was  a  jolly 
one  —  and  clever,  too.  He  always  wore  a  very  soft  velvety 
brown  suit  —  the  cloth  caught  the  light  a  good  deal ;  I 
don't  know  what  kind  it  was,  I've  never  seen  cloth  like 


70  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

it  since.  He  wore  a  broad,  snow-white  frill  around  his  neck, 
and  his  pretty  hair  hung  down  over  his  collar.  He  was 
very  vain  about  his  fine  clothes,  and  yet  he  was  untidy, 
and  didn't  bother  at  all  when  he  got  them  spoiled.  And 
we  didn't  scold  him  for  it,  either;  he  was  too  handsome 
for  that  —  and  too  bright.  We  three  girls  were  all  ugly  ; 
we  had  to  go  around  all  wearing  the  same  kind  of  rough 
gray  that  mother  used  to  buy  by  the  piece  for  us.  And 
we  were  naturally  peevish  and  heavy.  And  just  because 
we  were  so  peevish  and  heavy  and  envious,  just  on  that 
account  he  seemed  so  wonderfully  handsome  and  bright 
and  equable." 

She  was  silent  for  a  while,  as  if  she  were  thinking  of 
the  last  thing  she  had  said.  Then  she  went  on,  deep  in 
recollection :  "  The  mound  at  the  end  of  the  garden  be- 
longed to  him  alone ;  his  kingdom,  he  called  it.  He  sat 
on  a  little  chair  he  had  up  there,  with  his  legs  crossed, 
turning  his  slender  head  in  one  direction  and  then  in 
another,  and  saying  all  kinds  of  foolish  things,  as  if  he 
were  giving  commands  or  pronouncing  a  sentence  or  some 
such  thing.  We  three  were  his  retinue  ;  one  of  us  cleaned 
the  little  wooden  steps  that  led  up  to  the  hill ;  another  of 
us  got  down  on  her  knees  and  mowed  the  grass  on  its 
slope ;  and  the  third  one,  bending  low,  brought  him  his 
meals.  Toward  evening,  when  the  sun  shone  on  his 
fine  features,  and  made  his  silky  hair  shine,  we  used  to 
say  '  How  handsome  you  are  !  How  handsome  you  are  ! ' 
He  pretended  not  to  care  anything  about  our  praises,  but 
he  noticed  who  laid  it  on  the  thickest.  Then  our  father 
would  call  us,  in  his  curt,  gruff  voice,  and  we  had  to  go 
in  and  study  hard — principally  texts  and  hymns.  Our 
brother  learned  things  easily  and  quickly,  but  he  forgot 
them  quickly,  too.  He  was  too  easy-going  to  hold  any- 
thing firmly.  When  it  was  time  for  him  to  go  to  bed,  we 
used  to  quarrel  about  who  should  undress  him  and  put 
him  to  bed ;  finally  he  would  let  the  one  do  it  that  had 
flattered  him  the  most  during  the  day.  And  we  ugly  gray 
crows  envied  the  lucky  one  horribly  —  sometimes  we  really 
pulled  each  other's  hair  about  it." 


KLAUS  IIINRICH   BAAS  71 

She  sat  idle  for  a  while,  lost  in  gloomy  thoughts,  look- 
ing now  at  the  canvas,  now  at  the  black  wig.  Then  she 
drew  herself  up  again  and  set  to  work  with  renewed 
energy.  "  Now,  Tuddi,  look  just  as  proud  as  you  can ! 
Just  imagine  that  Klaus  Baas  wants  to  run  tlie  paint-brush 
over  your  saucy  little  nose  !  Turn  your  head  a  little  to 
the  left  —  that's  it !  Your  face  is  proudest  of  all  when 
you're  looking  to  one  side  a  little.  That's  good  now  — 
now  Klaus  is  coming  with  the  brush  —  that's  very  good  ! 
Just  let  yourself  go  and  imagine  he's  doing  it  —  the  shame- 
less cub  !  Yes,  you've  plenty  of  imagination  !  After  this 
we'll  paint  little  Sanna.  What  do  you  want  to  sit  for, 
Sanna?  " 

The  little  one  looked  up  from  the  beads  she  was  string- 
ing. Her  full  lips,  which  had  parted  in  the  intensity  of 
her  work,  closed  again  over  her  big  white  teeth. 

"I  think  she  ought  to  be  Zephaniah,"  Tuddi  said.  "It 
doesn't  matter  what  he  wrote.  You're  going  to  be 
Zephaniah." 

The  child  nodded,  and  repeated  the  name  to  herself 
several  times.  "I'll  wear  this  chain  I'm  making,"  she 
said. 

Now  and  then  Tuddi  talked  about  her  home — about 
her  mother,  who  was  just  too  dear  and  funny  ;  about  her 
father,  who  had  been  in  India  and  had  come  home  an 
invalid;  about  her  brothers,  most  of  whom  were  unen- 
durable ;  about  the  rooms  upstairs  and  downstairs  ;  about 
a  garden ;  about  some  school  where  studying  was  carried 
on  as  if  it  were  a  sort  of  pleasant  game,  and  where  the 
teachers  were  either  hideous  or  heavenly ;  and  about 
verses  in  foreign  languages,  that  were  horribly  hard  to 
learn.  Once  she  was  asking  for  help  on  a  composition. 
She  had  to  write  an  essay  on  "The  High  Moments  of 
Life."  What  the  teacher  meant  by  high  moments  was 
baptism,  confirmation,  taking  the  sacrament ;  but  Tuddi 
thought  they  were  things  like  taking  a  trip  to  Sylt,  going 
skating  in  the  winter,  and  getting  married. 

Sometimes  Klaus  Baas  took  the  centre  of  the  stage. 
He  had  to  tell  them  about  the  village,  and  the  games  they 


72  KLAUS  HINRICIi  BAAS 

played  there,  about  the  pond,  the  churchyard,  the  sea- 
shore, and  the  sand.  He  was  always  very  much  afraid  of 
making  mistakes  in  his  grammar,  for  High  German  was 
still  a  foreign,  difficult  speech  for  him.  So  he  talked 
along  rather  stiffly  and  properly.  Sometimes  he  was 
troubled  about  what  he  was  telling;  he  wasn't  sure 
whether  it  was  all  right  to  tell  some  of  the  things;  he 
would  hesitate  about  using  some  expression,  and  get  stuck 
entirely. 

Then  Tuddi  had  a  chance  to  make  fun  of  him  again. 
"  Go  over  and  wind  him  up  again,  Sanna,"  she  would  say. 
Then  he  didn't  know  what  else  to  do  but  make  the  story 
move  on  in  some  other  way,  and  so  he  had  to  make  up  a 
little.  And  as  lies  and  fiction  are  a  prett}^  risky  business, 
his  cheeks  grew  red  and  his  eyes  bright.  But  he  had  the 
satisfaction  of  hearing  little  Sanna  say,  in  her  gentle 
voice,  "  He's  running  again  now,  Tuddi." 

Sometimes  the  black  wig  monopolized  the  conversation 
entirely ;  she  gave  them  her  representations  of  the  grin- 
ning tiger,  the  hungry  hyena,  the  bored  lion  —  about  half 
the  zoological  garden,  in  fact.  Then  she  gave  a  "nigger 
show,"  as  she  called  it.  She  stood  little  Sauna  in  front 
of  Klaus,  and  said,  "  Look,  ladies  and  gentlemen  !  here  is 
the  negro  prince  Jumbo  I  Jumbo,  show  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  your  teeth  ! "  Then  Sanna  showed  her  teeth 
and  tried  to  look  fierce  at  Klaus.  They  were  particularly 
fond  of  this  scene,  and  gave  it  often.  Klaus  drank  it  in 
so  with  his  eyes,  with  all  his  senses,  as  they  stood  fine 
and  delicate  at  his  very  feet,  that  one  day,  twenty  years 
later,  when  he  met  little  Sanna  in  the  hall  of  the  house  on 
Fahr  Strasse  in  Uhlenhorst,  he  said  the  old  words  again, 
—  "  Jumbo,  show  your  teeth  !  "  And  it  really  cheered  her 
up,  worried  and  sad  though  she  was. 

When  Obadiah  was  finished,  Klaus  Baas  had  to  take 
his  turn.  He  was  to  sit  for  Daniel,  and  he  was  supposed 
to  look  as  Daniel  did  in  the  lions'  den.  "  For  that's  all 
those  Hogetrupper  people  know  about  him,  Klaus  ! " 

How  happy  Klaus  was  while  they  were  decking  him 
out  !     How  confused  he  felt,  and  how  honored,  when  the 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  73 

artist  put  the  green  mantle  around  him  !  What  terrible 
den-of-lions  eyes  Tuddi  made  right  in  front  of  him  !  How 
gently  and  cheerily  Sanna  hung  her  string  of  blue  beads 
around  his  neck,  as  he  knelt  in  front  of  her  !  How  his 
heart  did  jump  when  she  stroked  his  hair  hesitatingly 
and  said,  "  Oh,  Tuddi,  just  look,  he  has  a  moleskin  cap 
on!" 

But  the  next  day,  when  life  was  as  beautiful  as  it  could 
possibly  be,  all  at  once  it  changed;  the  two  children  did 
not  come.  The  artist  said  that  they  had  gone  to  their 
country  home,  near  Hammer,  earlier  than  usual  that  year, 
because  their  father  was  sick.  He  asked  a  few  questions 
timidly,  and  learned  that  their  father  was  a  merchant  who 
traded  with  India,  and  that  he  had  caught  some  disease 
on  one  of  his  trips  there.  "It's  a  distinguished  old  fam- 
ily, Klaus,"  she  said.  "  They  used  to  be  well  off,  and  they 
aren't  really  poor  now;  but  what  good  does  their  money 
do  them,  when  their  father  is  sick  ?  There's  nothing  but 
misery  in  this  world." 

To-day  she  was  painting  the  red  mantle,  which  she  had 
hanging  over  a  chair.  She  worked  on  for  a  while,  breath- 
ing heavily.  Then  she  said,  "  Last  evening  I  was  look- 
ing in  the  Bible,  Klaus,  for  the  best  places  in  it.  My 
father  was  always  praising  the  Psalms;  he  used  to  quote 
something  Luther  said  about  them  ;  but  Heaven  help  me, 
I  can't  find  much  of  anything  that  would  really  help  a 
man.  And  I  don't  even  remember  what  my  father  used 
to  read.  It's  my  belief  that  people  praise  or  blame  a 
thing  on  hearsay  for  centuries;  one  man  repeats  it  after 
another  without  thinking  what  he's  saying." 

"  Our  teacher  says,"  said  Klaus,  in  his  distinct,  careful. 
High  German,  "  that  the  sermon  on  the  mount,  and  then 
the  sufferings  of  our  Saviour,  and  then  the  thirteenth  chap- 
ter of  first  Corinthians,  are  the  best  things  in  the  Bible." 

"Is  that  so?  "  she  said.  "  Well,  you  come  back  again 
to-morrow,  Klaus.     Come  back  to-morrow  !  " 

The  next  day,  when  he  went  into  the  flat,  she  came  out 
of  the  studio,  and  said,  in  her  surly  yet  friendly  way, 
"  We're  going  to  leave  Daniel  out  to-day,  Klaus ;    I've 


74  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

got  my  brother  in  there  —  he  happens  to  be  in  Hamburg 
for  a  few  days  —  and  he's  to  sit  to  me  for  an  apostle.  I 
must  get  on  first  of  all  with  those  apostles.  I  thought 
you  might  read  aloud  to  me  now  and  then,  so  that  I'd 
get  into  the  right  mood  ;  I  haven't  any  imagination  at 
all.  You've  got  to  read  slowly,  though ;  my  brother's 
a  simple  soul,  and  he  hasn't  had  anything  to  do  with  books 
for  a  long  time." 

Then  she  went  back  into  the  studio,  and  Klaus  went 
first  to  clean  up  the  kitchen. 

When  he  went  into  the  studio  and  looked  curiously  at 
the  brother,  he  was  horror-struck  to  see  that  he  was  the 
drunken  loafer,  to  whom  he  had  boasted  so  six  months  be- 
fore at  the  corner  of  the  Grossneumarkt.  Although  the 
man  had  a  new  suit  on,  and  had  had  his  hair  cut,  Klaus 
recognized  him  at  once  by  his  beautiful  eyes  and  by  his 
beard  with  two  shades  in  it.  The  loafer  acted  as  if  he  didn't 
know  Klaus;  but  once,  when  the  artist  looked  away,  he  gave 
Klaus  a  confidential  wink. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  read  to-day  ?  "  the  artist  said. 
"  I  have  somebody  read  to  me  while  I  work,  Jacob,  so  as 
to  get  into  the  right  mood." 

Klaus  understood.  He  opened  to  the  sermon  on  the 
mount,  and  read  out  the  weighty  passages  sentence  after 
sentence,  in  a  slow,  measured  voice.  The  brother  did  not 
say  anything ;  the  sister  painted  on  with  real  zeal  and 
with  almost  a  physical  strain.  The  sweat  stood  out  on 
her  furrowed  brow  and  between  the  gray  hairs  on  her 
temples.  She  said  nothing,  except  that  now  and  then  she 
commented  on  what  was  read :  "  That's  good,  Klaus ! 
that's  the  way  it  ought  to  be !  " 

They  worked  on  in  this  way  for  three  or  four  days. 
On  the  fourth  day,  when  Klaus  was  setting  the  picture  to 
one  side,  he  marvelled  to  see  how  far  on  it  was,  and  how 
clear  and  smooth  the  face  stood  out. 

The  next  day,  while  Klaus  was  still  at  work  in  the 
kitchen,  the  outside  door  opened.  Klaus  thought  nothing 
of  it,  because  he  thought  it  was  the  brother  coming.  But 
when  he  heard  some  one  come  groping  along,  stumbling 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  75 

heavily,  lie  looked  out  the  door.  It  certainly  was  the 
brother ;  but  his  clothes  were  dirty,  his  hair  wild,  and  he 
was  drunk.  He  nodded  to  Klaus  Baas  in  sly  embarrass- 
ment. Klaus  hurried  out  of  the  kitchen  and  said  softly, 
"  Go  away  !  get  out  of  here ! "  but  the  artist  had  heard 
him.  She  opened  the  door  and  saw  him.  She  did  not 
say  anything;  but  she  waved  him  away  with  a  stiff,  help- 
less gesture.  He  turned  around  abashed,  looked  at  her 
again  in  a  stupid,  confused  way,  and  then  went  out. 

When  Klaus  got  done  in  the  kitchen  and  went  into  the 
studio,  she  was  sitting  all  huddled  up  in  her  old  place 
before  the  picture,  with  her  palette  and  brushes  in  her 
hands,  staring  straight  in  front  of  her.  When  she  heard 
him  come  in,  she  pulled  herself  together  and  began  to 
work  again.  Looking  over  at  her  timidly,  he  saw  her 
looking  intently  over  toward  the  place  where  her  brother 
had  sat,  as  if  she  were  painting  on  from  the  image  of  him 
she  had  in  her  mind.  She  was  quite  absorbed.  Gradually 
the  strained  look  passed  out  of  her  firm  old  face,  and  she 
painted  for  hours  with  particularly  keen,  strong  inspiration. 

Klaus  went  back  and  forth,  and  finally  went  to  the  table 
to  wash  the  brushes.  Slie  looked  over  at  liim  once,  and 
was  sorry  for  him,  standing  so  quietly  at  his  work.  "We'll 
ask  the  children  over  for  Saturday,  Klaus,"  she  said;  "  then 
it  will  be  cheerful  here  again." 

She  worked  on  uninterruptedly  for  three  hours,  until  the 
daylight  was  gone.  Then  she  got  up,  and  found  that  she 
was  tired.  "  Take  the  picture  off  and  turn  it  toward  the 
wall,"  she  said.  Then  she  went  as  usual  into  the  kitchen 
to  wash  her  hands. 

Klaus  went  up  and  looked  at  the  picture.  He  recognized 
the  brother  ;  but  whereas  the  face  of  the  real  man  was  cor- 
rupted with  mean  vices,  the  face  on  the  canvas  was  full  of 
the  noblest  of  all  passions,  the  grief  and  enthusiasm  of  a 
great,  pure  cause  ;  dreadful  suffering  showed  in  the  mouth, 
and  the  eyes  were  drawn  together,  as  if  anxiously  trying 
to  discover  aid.  Klaus  began  to  cry  violently,  still  staring 
at  the  picture  through  his  tears. 

Coming  back,  she  found  him  crying.     She  put  her  arm 


76  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

around   him   awkwardly,  and  walked  up   and  down  the 
room  with  him,  while  he  wept  bitterly. 

"  It  didn't  do  us  any  good,  Klaus,"  she  said.  "  The 
thing  goes  too  deep  for  that.  I  thought  it  would  turn 
out  this  way ;  but  I  wanted  to  try  once  more." 

He  wanted  to  comfort  her  somehow,  so  he  said  —  call- 
ing her  "thou"  in  his  warm  sympathy  —  "But  thou  hast 
imagination  after  all.  Aunt  Laura  !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  Klaus,"  she  said,  "  when  a  person  is  in  such 
grief !     But  you  see  for  yourself  now,  it's  all  no  good." 

The  next  da}^,  when  Klaus  went  home  at  noon,  and  was 
going  to  hurry  off  again  to  the  artist's,  he  saw  that  his 
father  was  neither  in  the  kitchen  nor  in  bed.  Klaus  was 
glad  ;  he  turned  on  his  heel  briskly  and  said,  "  Has  father 
gone  out?" 

Then  his  mother  came  out  of  the  bedroom.  Turning 
away  from  him,  she  said,  in  a  low,  hard  voice,  "  Father 
has  been  taken  to  the  hospital.     He's  to  be  operated  on." 

Klaus  stared  at  her,  and  saw  the  infinite  suffering  in 
her  eyes.  It  shook  him  so  that  he  could  not  say  a  single 
word.  "  I  haven't  bothered  myself  about  him.  I  haven't 
bothered  myself  about  him,"  rang  in  his  ears.  He  asked 
his  mother  what  hospital  it  was,  snatched  up  his  cap,  and 
ran  out  without  another  word. 

In  the  vestibule  of  the  hospital,  he  asked  about  his 
father  in  his  clear,  excited  voice.  A  doctor  came  along 
just  then  and  heard  him.  "  You've  come  at  just  the 
right  time,"  he  said.     "Come  along." 

As  they  went  up  the  stairs,  the  doctor  put  his  arm 
around  Klaus's  shoulders  and  said,  "  You're  a  lively 
youngster!  Where  are  you  from?  Holstein,  eh?  Well 
—  it  may  turn  out  that  you  won't  keep  your  father  much 
longer ;  then  you'll  have  to  be  a  stout  youngster  and  help 
your  mother !  Don't  stay  with  your  father  very  long ; 
go  back  and  tell  your  mother  that  she  must  come." 

Klaus,  breathing  hard,  silently  followed  the  man  into 
the  ward  full  of  small,  mean  beds,  in  one  of  which  lay  his 
father.  His  face  was  sunken,  and  white  as  death,  and 
there  were  blue  rings  around  his  sunken  eyes. 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  77 

He  opened  his  eyes  slowly  and  looked  up  without  any 
intelligence  in  his  face.  Then  he  recognized  his  son,  and 
tried  to  force  himself  out  of  his  stupor.  "  Are  you  there, 
my  boy,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  borrowed  ninety 
marks  from  Timmermann  on  the  quiet,  a  little  at  a  time  — 
v/pen  we  hadn't  anything  in  the  house  —  you  must  pay 
hiru  back,  when  you  get  to  earning  something  yourself. 
Mother  mustn't  know  anything  about  it  —  she'd  be 
ashamed  and  work  herself  to  death,  if  she  knew.  Then 
there's  sixty-seven  marks  more,  that  your  mother  had  to 
borrow  from  the  storekeeper.  As  soon  as  I'm  tended  to, 
you  go  back  home  right  away,  and  you  see  to  getting 
that  sixty-seven  marks  somewhere.  Mother's  so  straight 
and  honest  that  she  can't  stand  owing  any  one  anything. 
But  you  mustn't  tell  her  you're  going,  or  she  wouldn't 
let  you  go.  Then  come  right  back  and  keep  a  good 
watch  on  her,  and  keep  her  from  hurting  herself  —  you 
know  what  she's  like.  You  must  pet  the  little  ones  now 
and  then,  Klaus  ;  only  don't  you  let  her  see  you." 

Klaus  kept  nodding,  with  the  tears  running  down  his 
cheeks.  He  waited  for  his  father  to  say  something  more, 
but  he  lay  there,  dead  white,  his  whole  forehead  covered 
with  drops  of  sweat,  breathing  irregularly.  Klaus  was 
too  shy  to  think  of  saying  to  the  doctor,  "  Let  me  stay 
here  !  Don't  send  me  away  from  my  father's  death-bed 
to  carry  a  message ! "  He  turned  away  and  hurried 
home. 

He  didn't  find  his  mother  in  the  flat ;  she  had  started 
to  the  hospital  already.  He  cheered  up  the  children,  put 
them  to  bed,  and  talked  to  little  Hanna,  who  was  crying, 
asking  where  her  father  was,  and  listening  on  the  stairs 
for  her  mother  to  come  back.  At  dusk  their  mother  did 
come.  "  Father  is  dead,"  she  said  to  Klaus,  in  a  low  cold 
tone.     "  Go  to  bed  ;  I'm  going  to  work." 

He  went  out,  crying  gently,  and  stood  in  the  hall.  He 
gulped  down  his  sobs  so  as  not  to  wake  Hanna,  who  had 
just  gone  to  sleep. 

Suddenly  he  heard  his  mother  cry  out  —  madly,  like  a 
wild  beast. 


78  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

He  stood  there  listening  in  terrible  anxiety,  hearing  her 
strike  her  head  and  her  elbows  against  the  table,  uttering 
wild,  grief-stricken  cries.  He  fastened  the  hall  door 
softly,  so  that  she  could  not  get  out.  Then  looking 
through  the  keyhole  into  the  kitchen  he  saw  her  lying 
among  the  dirty  dishes  on  the  hearth,  in  front  of  the 
wooden  chair  that  Jan  Baas  used  to  sit  in,  groaning  in 
a  tortured,  choking  voice:  "God,  you're  crazy  —  God, 
you're  a —  Don't  you  want  anything  more  ?  If  you  would 
only  come  and  take  me  !  My  dear  husband !  My  hand- 
some, dear,  cheerful,  good  husband!  So  dear — so  hand- 
some—  so  good!  What  do  you  want,  God?  Do  you 
want  me  to  pray  to  you  to  help  me  take  care  of  the  chil- 
dren? Ha,  ha!  That  makes  me  laugh  at  you!  I  can 
take  care  of  the  children  myself !  And  if  I  couldn't,  I 
wouldn't  pray  to  you  or  anybody  else  about  it !  I'd  take 
them  and  jump  into  the  Elbe  with  them.  Pray  to  you? 
to  you'?     Ha,  ha  !  " 

Her  son  knelt  outside  the  door,  in  deadly  anxiety,  his 
hair  standing  on  end.  He  wondered  what  he  ought  to  do; 
if  she  should  rush  out  suddenly,  he  would  hang  on  to  her 
clothes  and  not  let  her  go  ! 

And  so  he  spent  the  hours  of  that  night,  until  finally 
only  a  dull  groaning  came  from  the  kitchen.  Then,  over- 
come, he  fell  asleep,  curled  up  like  a  dog  against  the  door. 

Toward  morning  he  woke  up  freezing.  He  put  on  his 
good  suit,  and  wrote  on  a  scrap  of  paper  :  — 

"Father  was  talking  to  me.  I  have  to  go  back  home.  I  have  my 
good  suit  on  and  I  have  some  clean  handkerchiefs  and  three  marks. 
You  must  keep  up.  I'll  stand  by  you  like  a  hero.  From  your  loyal 
son, 

"  Klaus  Hinrich  Baas." 

He  peeped  through  the  keyhole  once  more.  She  was 
sitting  on  the  hearth,  with  her  elbows  up,  holding  one 
hand  over  her  mouth,  as  if  to  keep  it  still,  and  staring 
straight  at  the  wall.  Then  he  left  the  flat,  and  went 
down  the  dark  stairs.  It  was  still  dark  outside.  He 
went  along  the  Langereihe  toward  Altona. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  79 

Gradually  the  sky  grew  lighter,  and  the  streets  gray. 
Part  of  the  time  Klaus's  soul  was  with  his  father,  who  was 
being  carried  home  now  by  strangers'  hands ;  part  of  the 
time  it  was  in  the  kitchen,  where  his  mother  was  sitting 
on  the  cold  hearth  in  the  gray  dawn.  Part  of  the  time  he 
was  thinking  of  their  old  home.  Where  would  he  ever 
get  the  money  !     Sixty-seven  marks !     Sixty-seven  ! 

One  day,  ten  years  later,  when  he  was  sitting  in  his 
office  on  the  shore  of  the  Indian  Ocean,  thousands  of 
miles  away  from  home,  he  happened  to  hear  that  number 
again;  and  this  sad  morning  and  his  bitter  need  rose  up 
up  before  bim  again,  so  deeply  had  that  number  stamped 
itself  upon  his  soul. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Klaus  was  terribly  depressed.  If  he  had  been  travel- 
ling second  or  even  third  class,  where  the  people  are  always 
more  or  less  stiff  and  quiet,  he  would  have  passed  some 
pretty  dreary  hours.  As  it  was,  he  was  in  the  fourth 
class,  where  there  is  always  something  to  see  and  hear. 

When  the  train  started,  he  looked  around  cautiously  to 
see  what  sort  of  people  he  had  struck,  scanning  them  in 
turn.  They  were  all  sitting  stupidly  along  the  four  walls, 
as  quietly  as  he. 

But  after  a  while  a  young  man  in  a  light  gray  suit  that 
wasn't  as  clean  as  it  might  have  been,  set  a  kind  of  hand- 
bell down  on  the  floor  and  rang  it  with  his  foot.  Then, 
winking  at  them  all  around,  he  announced  that  the  con- 
cert was  about  to  begin.  He  pulled  a  little  instrument 
out  of  his  pocket,  held  it  to  his  lips  crosswise,  and  began 
to  blow  on  it.  While  he  blew  he  kept  drumming  his  fin- 
gers against  his  puffed  cheeks  in  the  oddest  way  imagi- 
nable. They  all  listened  with  marked  attention,  nodding 
to  one  another  as  if  to  say  that  it  was  really  very  pretty 
music.  He  played  all  kinds  of  ragtime,  keeping  time  so 
smartly  with  his  head  that  they  never  got  tired  watching 
him.  Two  young  girls  giggled  and  nudged  each  other. 
When  he  made  a  little  pause,  which  he  had  certainly 
earned,  for  he  had  played  till  he  was  red  in  the  face,  a 
young  fellow  asked  him  whether  he  knew  a  certain  waltz. 
He  played  it  at  once,  to  everybody's  astonishment.  When 
a  nice,  dumpy  little  woman  with  a  big  market  basket 
asked  him  whether  he  couldn't  also  play  a  certain  choral,  it's 
true  he  had  to  admit  that  he  couldn't.  But  when  he  went 
on  to  explain  that  chorals  were  too  religious  for  this 
instrument,   he    regained   his  standing.     When  the  train 

80 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  81 

reached  the  first  station,  he  handed  round  his  hat,  thanked 
the  people  for  the  groschen  and  half-groscheu  they  threw 
in  it,  and  got  out. 

Conversation  rather  lagged  after  that.  The  old  woman 
with  the  big  basket  told  another  woman  across  Klaus's 
head,  that  her  sister-in-law  in  Eimsbiittel  had  just  had  her 
twelfth  child.  She  had  had  plenty  to  live  on  so  far,  she 
said,  but  it  would  be  a  little  hard  now,  for  she  would  have 
to  make  shift  somewhat. 

There  was  one  big  strong  man,  smoking  a  short  meer- 
schaum pipe,  and  looking  like  a  good  conscience  personi- 
fied. Taking  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  he  told  the  two 
girls,  who  were  still  talking  about  the  musician,  that  the 
fellow  was  a  hobo  waiter,  who  earned  his  living  by  travel- 
ling back  and  forth  between  stations  several  times  a  day, 
playing  and  taking  up  a  collection.  The  girls  took  a 
defiant  attitude,  and  said  it  didn't  make  a  bit  of  difference 
how  a  man  earned  his  living.  Some  earned  it  one  way 
and  some  another.  The  pale  young  man  who  had  been 
so  fond  of  the  waltz  he  asked  for,  agreed  with  them,  and 
so  got  into  conversation  with  them. 

Meanwhile  things  grew  lively  in  the  other  cornero 
Three  pleasant,  well-to-do  country  people,  who  really 
should  have  travelled  third  class  to  keep  up  with  their 
position,  but  who  wanted  to  make  up  for  money  they  had 
spent  having  a  good  time,  had  struck  up  a  conversation 
with  a  young  man  in  a  shabby  havelock.  He  claimed  to 
be  an  actor,  and  they  declared  tlmt  he  was  a  tailor  out  of 
a  job.  In  order  to  prove  his  calling,  he  stood  up  in  the 
rocking  coach,  with  his  legs  wide  apart,  and  addressed 
the  people  :  "  Friends,  Romans,  countrymen  !  lend  me 
your  ears."  Klaus  Baas  understood  little  of  this.  The 
country  people  were  still  dubious,  however ;  with  the  air 
of  men  contending  for  a  point  of  honor,  they  declared 
that  a  tailor  might  be  perfectly  familiar  with  arts  of  this 
kind.  So  then  he  showed  them  how  death  scenes  were 
presented  in  the  different  theatres.  He  knelt  down, 
leaned  against  the  wall,  fell  down  on  tlie  ground,  talked 
philosopliically,  then  wildly.     At  last,  in  the  midst  of  up- 


82  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

roarious  laughter  from  the  audience,  he  showed  how  they 
managed  a  death  scene  in  the  Royal  Theatre  in  Berlin. 
Klaus  had  quite  forgot  his  grief.  Although  he  had  just 
come  from  a  death-bed,  the  man's  presentation  of  death 
did  not  make  him  think  of  his  own  sorrow.  Quite  carried 
away,  he  looked  on  wide-eyed  at  the  spectacle. 

The  actor,  out  of  breath  but  with  proud  mien,  got  off 
at  the  next  station.  The  tall,  imposing  man,  the  one  with 
the  good  conscience,  took  his  meerschaum  out  of  the  cor- 
ner of  his  mouth  and  said,  "What  a  clown  !  "  They  all 
looked  at  him  just  as  they  had  before,  with  the  utmost 
respect.  He  was  decidedly  the  silent  centre  of  interest 
for  the  whole  coach. 

A  young  farmer  sitting  beside  him  had  the  courage  to 
try  to  draw  him  out  a  bit.  He  spoke  of  wind  and  weather 
and  crops,  and  asked  whether  he  might,  perhaps,  be  a 
landowner.  The  tall  man  shook  his  head.  Then  the 
young  man  began  to  talk  about  all  kinds  of  crafts,  trades, 
and  business,  but  he  could  get  nothing  out  of  him.  The 
farmer  had  to  get  out  at  the  next  station,  and  would  have 
liked  to  take  home  with  him  the  position  and  life  history 
of  this  big,  imposing  man  with  the  meerschaum.  There 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  ask  him  outright  what  he  was. 
So  he  asked.  The  big  man  removed  the  meerschaum  a 
little  way  from  the  corner  of  his  mouth.  "I'm  the  mid- 
wife's husband,"  he  said,  and  went  on  smoking.  The 
young  farmer  bit  his  lips  in  vexation.  As  he  got  out  he 
cast  a  long  look  at  the  big  man.  Then  the  big  man  got 
off  too.  Klaus  Baas  didn't  quite  understand  the  situation 
at  the  time,  but  it  made  such  an  impression  on  him  that 
he  never  forgot  it.  Whenever  afterward  he  met  a  big, 
composed  man,  with  an  especially  good  conscience,  he 
always  recollected  this  experience,  and  he  was  always 
dubious  as  to  whether  it  were  not  "the  midwife's  hus- 
band." The  experience  stood  him  in  good  stead  later, 
when  he  was  a  merchant,  and  an  almost  daily  visitor  at 
the  Adolf splatz. 

The  people  kept  getting  off  until  the  compartment  was 
almost  empty.     At  last  only  one  very  fat  little  man  was 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  83 

left,  and  he  was  asleep  ;  so  Klaus  had  time  to  study  him 
exhaustively.  It  seemed  to  Klaus  that  there  was  a  cer- 
tain underlying  viciousness  in  his  face.  He  imagined 
that  he  might  wake  up  and  declare  that  his  pocketbook 
had  been  stolen.  Or  it  Avas  possible  —  he  was  so  fat — ■ 
that  he  might  have  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  and  fall  down 
from  his  seat  dead ;  he  was  sitting  there  in  such  a  queer 
way,  with  his  hands  clasped  over  his  fat  belly  — just  the 
way  toads  put  their  hands  when  they  die.  Everybody 
would  say  tliat  he,  Klaus,  had  throttled  him,  although, 
for  his  part,  he  couldn't  even  bear  to  think  of  putting  his 
hand  on  that  lump  of  fat.  He  thought  the  story  out  in 
every  detail  —  to  its  bitter  end  on  the  scaffold.  What 
would  become  of  the  sixty-seven  marks  then  ?  And  what 
a  blow  for  liis  mother  !  He  stood  up  by  the  window  and 
counted  the  stations.  How  relieved  he  was  when  it  was 
time  to  get  off  and  he  could  escape  all  that  misery  !  He 
threw  one  glance  back  at  the  fat  man.  Thank  God,  he 
was  still  alive  !     But  he  left  the  station  with  averted  eyes. 

It  happened  to  be  the  time  of  the  annual  fair  in  the 
little  town.  Without  looking  to  right  or  left,  however, 
Klaus  asked  the  nearest  way  to  his  cousin's  house.  He 
had  heard  his  father  say  casually  that  he  was  a  good  sort 
of  fellow,  and  imagining  that  the  cousin,  who  was  a  shoe- 
maker, would  live  in  a  nice  little  house  like  all  those  around 
him,  he  was  much  disconcerted  when  he  was  directed  to 
the  yard  of  a  wretched  old  low  house. 

His  cousin,  sitting  half  dressed  on  the  side  of  his  unmade 
bed,  was  looking  morosely  over  at  his  workbench  under 
the  window.  When  he  heard  who  his  visitor  was,  and 
learned  tliat  Jan  Baas  was  dead,  he  shook  his  head  dis- 
mally. "So  —  so,"  he  said.  "So  he's  dead  and  gone,  is 
he?  Well,  don't  let's  talk  about  it.  And  now  you're 
taking  a  little  trip  to  help  you  forget  your  trouble.  And 
aren't  you  lucky  to  get  here  just  at  fair  time.  If  you 
hadn't  come  I'd  perhaps  have  gone  back  to  bed  again,  be- 
cause I've  no  money  to  spend  —  not  a  single  groschen  or 
even  a  pfennig.  But  now  of  course  I  must  see  that  you 
have  a  good  time." 


84  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Klaus  Baas  tried  to  say  that  lie  hadn't  much  time  and 
that  he  had  to  call  on  other  relatives.  But  the  shoemaker 
shook  his  head  steadily  and  made  a  mighty  gesture  with 
his  arm.  "You  are  my  guest!"  he  said.  "Duty  and 
love  of  kindred  call  me  to  the  fray."  He  finished  dress- 
ing in  a  hurry,  put  an  old  funny  paper  into  Klaus's  hand 
and  went  out  of  the  room.  Klaus  Baas  stared  at  the 
paper.  "Oh,  if  I  could  only  get  away,"  he  thought. 
"But  perhaps  he'll  have  four  or  five  marks  for  me  when 
I  tell  him  why  I've  come."  Just  then  he  heard  an  old 
woman  in  the  next  room  scolding  loudly.  "  Money  again  ? 
Money,  money  all  the  time  !  "  That  kept  up  for  a  while. 
Then  the  cousin  came  back,  scratching  his  head  as  he 
came  in.  He  studied  the  ten-mark  note  in  his  hand,  and 
put  it  in  his  pocket.  "  Well  —  now  I  guess  we're  ready 
to  go,"  he  said,  suddenly  regaining  his  spirits. 

The  shoemaker  cousin  had  the  keenest  kind  of  interest 
in  everything  the  fair  had  to  offer.  He  stopped  in  amaze- 
ment in  front  of  the  woman  who  sang  tales  of  horror  to 
the  grinding  of  the  hand-organ  ;  nothing  could  keep  him 
from  beholding  the  strongest  man  in  the  world  —  a  spec- 
tacle that  cost  the  two  of  them  forty  pfennigs.  And  from 
the  truthful  James,  who  was  loudly  extolling  all  kinds  of 
wares,  he  bought  a  regular  sheaf  of  long  lead  pencils,  which 
he  thrust  into  his  breast  pocket,  from  which  they  stuck 
up  high.  Once  in  a  while  Klaus  began  to  tell  about  his 
father's  illness  and  how  much  it  had  cost.  But  every 
time  he  began,  his  cousin  opened  his  eyes  so  wide  that 
his  brows  were  hid  under  his  thick  tuft  of  hair.  "  Don't 
let's  talk  about  it,"  he  said.  "  Don't  let's  talk  about 
it,  cousin.  I  can't  bear  to  listen  to  things  like  that.  I 
begin  to  cry  right  away.  I'm  such  a  soft-hearted  thing. 
Come  along." 

He  greeted  all  kinds  of  young  people  from  the  country 
and  from  town.  With  many  of  them  he  stood  talking  for 
half  an  hour  or  so,  usually  about  some  merry  excursion  or 
other.  And  each  time  he  pointed  to  Klaus  Baas,  who  was 
standing  riglit  behind  him.  "  I'd  have  stayed  home  to  work 
to-day,"  he  said,  "  but  my  cousin's  here,  from  Hamburg. 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  85 

And  so  I  had  to  pull  on  my  boots  and  come  out  whether 
I  wanted  to  or  not."  Every  half  hour  or  so  they  went  into 
a  tavern,  where  his  cousin  drank  a  huge  glass  of  beer,  and 
Klaus  a  glass  of  lemonade,  which  gradually  lost  its  taste 
for  him. 

At  noon  they  ate  lunch  standing  up  in  front  of  a  sausage 
booth,  where  they  were  calling,  "  Hot  sausages  !  Here 
you  are  for  hot  sausages  !  "  Of  the  ten  marks  there  M^ere 
only  six  left ;  and  it  was  getting  dark.  Klaus  Baas  became 
worried.  Standing  there  with  his  sausage  on  a  wooden 
plate  in  his  hand,  he  told  his  cousin  that  his  mother  was  a 
good,  industrious  seamstress,  but  that  his  father  had  been 
sick  for  four  months,  altogether.  His  cousin  lifted  his  eyes 
again.  "  Don't  let's  speak  of  it.  I'm  not  strong  enough, 
cousin,''  he  said.  "I'll  begin  crying  right  here  in  front  of 
the  sausage  counter." 

Then  Klaus  took  heart  again.  Every  time  they  spent 
anything,  he  looked  over  his  cousin's  sleeve  to  see  how 
much  money  was  left.  The  cousin  was  indefatigable  in 
sightseeing  and  drinking.  At  last  he  began  to  babble  a 
bit  and  to  sing.  There  were  still  three  marks  left.  Then 
Klaus  Baas  seized  him  by  the  sleeve  on  the  side  the  money 
was  on  and  explained  the  situation  plainly.  They  were 
standing  just  behind  a  menagerie  booth  among  all  kinds  of 
boxes  and  cases  in  which  snakes  and  other  reptiles  were 
housed.  The  shoemaker  sat  down  at  once  on  one  of  the 
cases.  "  My  God,"  he  said,  disconsolately,  "  what  a  sad 
place  this  world  is  !  "  And  theii,  lost  to  everything,  he  be- 
gan to  cry.  "  This  world  is  a  vale  of  tears.  Oh,  your 
poor,  poor  mother!  But  what  can  I  do  for  her?  And 
what  have  I  got  to  do  with  her  troubles  ?  I  am  the  un- 
liappiest  creature  in  the  world  myself.  I  have  no  wife,  no 
child,  no  money,  and  I  can't  even  stick  at  anything  very 
long.     Oh,  woe,  woe  I  " 

Klaus  Baas  looked  down  at  him  for  a  while,  then  turned 
and  walked  off.  Turnincr  around  asrain  at  the  corner  of 
the  square  he  saw  him,  by  the  slight  llickering  gleam  of 
the  red  street-lantern,  still  sitting  on  the  box  of  snakes. 
He  had  both  hands  clasped  over  his  head,  which  was  sunk 


86  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

almost  to  his  knees.  Klaus  looked  at  him  wide-eyed,  and 
then  went  on,  in  silent  astonishment. 

As  he  walked  along  the  street  in  the  darkness,  he  saw 
that  there  were  still  many  wagons  from  the  country  in 
the  lighted  yard  of  the  tavern,  and  he  asked  the  servant, 
who  was  just  gearing  up  a  till  cart,  whether  any  of  the 
wagons  was  going  to  Eckebeek.  The  man  answered  that 
the  only  one  that  was  going  was  the  one  he  was  just  get- 
ting ready,  but  that  all  the  places  in  it  were  taken. 

Klaus  stepped  back  hopelessly.  Just  as  he  was  about 
to  start  out  on  the  unknown  road  on  foot,  five  or  six 
young  couples  came  out  of  the  tavern,  laughing  and  jok- 
ing. They  crossed  the  courtyard  and  began  to  climb  into 
the  wagon.  The  last  one,  a  girl,  refused  to  get  in. 
"  I'm  going  to  stay  all  night  with  my  aunt,"  she  said, 
laughingly.  "  I  haven't  got  any  lover,  and  I  don't  want 
to  sit  just  with  people  that  have." 

Then  the  servant  pointed  out  Klaus  Baas,  who  was  still 
standing  in  the  shadow.  "  There's  a  beau  for  you,"  he 
said.  "  He  would  like  to  go  along  —  he  wants  to  get  to 
Eckebeek." 

The  couples  in  the  carriage  laughed.  "  Take  him," 
they  said,  "  and  then  you'll  have  one,  too." 

She  went  up  to  him,  laughing,  and  saw  that  he  was  a 
nice,  slim  boy.  "  But  he  has  such  terrible  serious  eyes," 
she  said  in  amazement.  "Come  right  along,"  she  said 
gently,  with  real  tenderness;  "don't  you  be  afi'aid." 
With  that  she  led  him  to  the  wagon  and  made  him  get  in. 

When  the  heavy  wagon  had  started,  with  much  rattling 
and  bumping,  she  asked  him  kindly  how  he  happened  to 
be  travelling  and  what  he  was  going  to  do.  She  sym- 
pathized with  him  deeply,  with  many  an  "  Oh,  Lord,  you 
poor  little  fellow  !  And  going  around  all  alone  !  Yes, 
it's  always  the  same  thing  —  that  horrid,  horrid  money  !  " 
After  a  while  one  of  the  young  folks  put  out  the  little 
lantern  hanging  from  the  roof  of  the  wagon.  Then  there 
were  great  carryings  on.  Several  couples  sat  holding 
each  other's  hands  and  whispering  secrets  and  kissing. 
Others  made  all  kinds  of  jokes,  and  began  to  insist  that 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  87 

the  young  girl  with  Klaus  ought  to  kiss  her  sweetheart. 
.She  had  distinctly  called  him  that,  and  if  he  wasn't  that, 
then  they  didn't  belong  in  that  company  of  lovers.  They 
called  to  the  driver  to  stop  and  put  those  two  out. 

She  defended  herself,  answering  them  back  laughingly. 
But  when  they  kept  it  up,  she  said  at  last,  "  Well,  what's 
the  harm  —  we  don't  mind  doing  them  the  favor."  And 
she  put  her  arm  around  him  and  kissed  him.  Klaus  was 
puzzled  by  the  queer  people  you  meet  when  you  travel  — 
such  as  a  shoemaker  who  was  absolutely  gay  and  then 
turned  around  and  cried  ;  and  now  a  girl  who  was  so 
quiet  at  first  and  then  kissed  him.  He  submitted  to  it 
gravely.  ^  ^ 

Gradually  the  moon  disappeared  and  the  night  grew 
darker.  The  jokers  grew  tired  and  fell  asleep,  and  the 
lovers  grew  more  ardent.  Then  the  girl  got  out  her 
supper,  which  consisted  of  a  good  piece  of  black  bread, 
and  divided  it  with  Klaus.  As  she  put  each  piece  in  his 
mouth  she  kissed  him,  sajdng  comically,  "  You  have  a  nice 
smell  of  black  bread,  little  chap."  After  having  been 
hungry  all  day,  and  having  drunk  so  much  lemonade, 
Klaus  thought  the  good  substantial  bread  tasted  very 
good  indeed.  He  felt  very  comfortable  resting  against 
the  arm  she  had  thrown  around  him.  "  You  have  a  nice 
smell  of  bread,  too,"  he  said. 

At  the  edge  of  the  village  she  got  out  with  him  and  led 
him  through  the  darkness  up  a  narrow  path,  j^ast  some 
thatched  houses,  to  where  her  mother  lived.  She  explained 
briefly  wlio  her  companion  was,  and  asked  her  mother  to 
let  him  sleep  on  the  sofa.  Then  she  went  to  the  place 
where  she  worked.  Klaus  passed  the  night  very  com- 
fortably. 

Next  morning  he  started  off  bright  and  early  to  find  his 
uncle,  who  had  a  little  place  not  far  from  the  village.  He 
found  a  bare  new  house,  surrounded  by  an  untidy  yard. 
He  went  in,  feeling  terribly  depressed  by  his  errand  all 
the  time.  There  was  no  one  to  be  seen,  either  in  the  hall, 
in  the  bare  kitchen,  or  in  the  stuffy  little  sitting-room. 
He  opened  another  door  and  looked  into  an  unpromising, 


88  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

empty -looking  room,  in  which  a  very  old  woman  was  lying 
in  bed.  She  raised  her  head  and  asked  who  was  there. 
He  gave  his  name,  and  went  on  to  say  that  his  father  was 
dead  and  that  he  was  going  around  to  their  relatives  to 
get  some  assistance  for  his  mother.  She  raised  herself 
with  difficulty  by  a  cord  hanging  from  the  ceiling,  and 
tried  to  study  him  out  with  her  half-blind  eyes. 

"  They're  all  out  on  the  moor  cutting  peat ;  and,"  she 
added,  with  a  shake  of  her  head,  "  they  aren't  looking  out 
for  their  relations,  child." 

He  sat  down  on  the  chair  beside  the  door,  and  asked 
shyly  whether  she  was  the  grandmother.  "  No,"  she  said  ; 
"  I'm  a  Baas,  to  be  sure,  but  I'm  only  distantly  related  to 
them.  I  was  alone  in  the  world  and  I  had  saved  up  six 
hundred  marks  of  my  earnings.  I  made  them  over  to 
these  folks,  and  in  return  they  were  to  take  care  of  me 
till  I  died.  I  was  sickly  then,  and  they  thought  I'd  hang 
around  for  about  a  year  and  then  die.  But  my  trouble 
went  to  my  legs  and  I  got  lame.  And  now  I've  been 
lying  here  —  a  burden  to  them  —  for  fifteen  years.  I  was 
eighty-eight  last  Christmas.  Oh,  life's  very  bitter  !  They're 
in  good  enough  circumstances,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head 
again,  "but  they're  not  looking  out  for  their  relations, 
child.     It  won't  do  you  any  good." 

Klaus  Baas  looked  with  wide  eyes  upon  this  ancient  bit 
of  wreckage  of  his  family.  Then  he  got  up  quietly  and 
went  out. 

For  several  hours  he  hung  around  the  house,  looking 
over  the  fields  in  every  direction,  hoping  and  yet  fearing 
that  they  would  come  back  from  the  moor.  At  last  they 
came  —  the  husband  and  wife,  and  the  two  children,  just 
of  an  age  to  go  to  school.  They  listened  pretty  coolly  as 
he  told  them  why  he  was  there,  and  they  left  him  stand- 
ing out  in  the  yard.  After  a  while  his  uncle  came  out 
again  to  the  well,  and  asked  him  wliether  he  wasn't  going 
to  see  the  pastor  in  Bindorf,  his  uncle  once  removed.  He 
was  the  one  that  had  owned  those  yellow  books.  If  he 
was  going  there,  he  ought  to  start,  for  it  was  at  least  a 
three  hours'  trip.     Klaus  said  that  he  had  rather  not  go 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  89 

there ;  he  didn't  know  whether  the  pastor  had  known  his 
father.  Well,  his  uncle  said,  he  could  make  up  his  mind 
about  that  any  way  he  liked ;  but  he  had  to  go  back  to 
the  moor  ;  and  he  went. 

Klaus  stood  disconsolately  beside  the  well,  hesitating 
whether  to  tell  his  aunt  again  about  his  mother's  great 
trouble.  Just  then  she  came  out  of  the  kitchen,  and  said 
that  she  wanted  to  send  one  of  the  children  to  the  store, 
and  she  had  no  change.  Did  he  happen  to  have  any  ? 
He  pulled  out  his  little  purse  and  gave  her  the  eleven 
groschen  he  had  left.  When  she  gave  them  to  the  child 
she  whispered  something  in  its  ear.  The  other  one  took 
a  fancy  to  the  purse,  and  when  the  mother  said,  "  You  can 
have  it  to  play  with,"  it  took  the  purse  and  ran  back  to 
the  kitchen  with  her. 

A  little  later  she  came  out  to  the  well  again  and  urged 
him  to  start.  "  If  you  don't,"  she  said,  "  it  will  be  night 
before  you  get  to  Bindorf."  Klaus  was  sure  now  that  she 
had  cheated  him  out  of  his  money.  But,  ashamed  for  her, 
he  only  cast  his  eyes  down  and  started  off. 

It  was  a  bad  road  to  travel  —  sandy,  with  banks  on 
both  sides,  and  Klaus  was  hungry  and  discouraged.  He 
was  sternly  confronted  with  the  necessity  of  going  into  a 
pastor's  house  and  asking  again  for  money  there.  Once 
in  a  while  he  stood  still  and  debated  whether  he  shouldn't 
turn  around  and  go  back  to  his  mother.  But  then  came 
the  slight  hope  that  through  some  strange  turn  of  fortune 
he  might  be  able  to  get  the  money  yet.  He  walked  along 
over  a  high  barren  country,  through  several  little  villages 
and  scanty  fir  woods,  and  then  came  down  upon  a  moor. 
Soon  a  young  peasant  driving  an  empty  peat  wagon  stoj^ped 
and  asked  him  cheerily  to  get  in  and  ride.  Klaus  clam- 
bered up,  and  answered  his  questions  about  where  he 
came  from  and  where  he  was  going.  When  he  had  heard 
about  Hamburg  and  about  the  pastor,  the  young  peasant 
didn't  hold  back  either,  but  told  Klaus  about  his  three 
years'  service  in  the  Guards  in  Berlin,  about  his  three 
children,  and  his  brood-mare. 

And   so  they  rode   along  comfortably  in  the  rattling 


90  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

wagon  across  the  moor  and  on  to  higher  land  again.  As 
they  were  going  past  a  dark  wood,  several  bright-haired 
children  came  toward  them  across  a  strip  of  heath  that 
ran  along  in  front  of  the  wood.  They  were  carrying  little 
hazel  twigs  hung  with  yellow  catkins,  and  were  trying  to 
tickle  each  other's  faces  with  the  twigs  as  they  came 
through  the  high  grass  toward  the  road  home.  When 
they  got  near  the  wagon  the  peasant  said  that  he  thought 
he  spied  the  pastor's  daughter  among  them.  "Isn't 
Pastor  Garbens's  daughter  there  ?"  he  cried  out.  At  that 
a  robust,  well-grown  girl,  wearing  a  short  dress,  sprang  up 
and  said,  in  an  easy,  natural  way,  "I'm  Suse  Garbens. 
What  is  it?"  as  she  brushed  back  the  bright  hair  the 
wind  was  blowing  over  her  forehead. 

"  I'm  Klaus  Baas  from  Hamburg,"  said  Klaus,  much 
embarrassed.  "Your  father  and  my  mother  are  relatives, 
and  I  wanted  to  visit  you  for  a  day."  "Is  that  so?"  she 
said,  brightly,  accepting  the  situation  at  once.  "  Then 
just  you  sit  still  —  I'll  get  up  there  with  you." 

And  before  he  knew  it  she  had  climbed  up  over  the 
wheel  and  was  sitting  beside  him,  while  her  companions 
scrambled  up  behind. 

She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes  and  said,  "  My  father 
will  be  glad  to  hear  something  about  you.  He  likes  to 
get  news  of  the  family  once  in  a  while.  He  often  talks 
to  me  about  it." 

The  farmer  nudged  him.  "You  see  !  "  he  said,  "you'll 
get  a  good  welcome." 

She  asked  him  how  he  had  come  here  from  Hamburg, 
what  school  he  went  to,  and  how  many  brothers  and 
sisters  he  had.  And  she  said  everything  in  a  fresh, 
cheery  way,  sitting  close  to  him,  her  eyes  and  her  breast 
right  before  him.     He  listened  and  answered  shyly. 

At  the  edge  of  the  village  they  got  out  of  the  wagon 
and  went  along  the  street  of  the  rather  imposing  village, 
till  they  had  nearly  reached  the  church.  "  There's  where 
we  live,"  she  said,  pointing  to  a  good-looking  thatched 
house  shaded  by  broad  lindens.  Klaus's  heart  sprang  into 
his  throat.     "  Now  it's  coming,"  he  thought.     The  pastor 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  91 

would  certiiinly  say — as  pastors  always  did  —  "Well,  my 
son,  what  can  1  do  for  you  ?  "  Then  he  would  have  to  tell 
everything  at  once,  this,  that,  and  the  other;  "  and  now  my 
mother  is  in  trouble,  and  she  needs  sixty-seven  marks." 

They  went  through  the  big  dark  hall.  With  a  gesture 
evidently  natural  to  her,  she  flung  her  liat  down  on  the 
table  and  cried,  "  Father  !  stop  reading  that  stupid  news- 
paper and  come  here.     Just  see  who's  come!" 

A  rather  young  looking  man,  with  a  soft  brown  felt  hat 
on  the  back  of  his  head,  came  toward  them  pleasantly  from 
the  door.  "  Now,"  Suse  said,  "  of  course  you  think  it's 
somebody  that  wants  a  baptism  certificate  or  something 
like  that.  Well,  it  isn't.  Or  you  think  a  new  family  has 
moved  into  the  village  and  that  this  is  one  of  them.  Well, 
it  isn't.  Or  you  think  he's  lost  his  way  and  just  run  in 
here  like  that  shepherd  dog  a  few  weeks  ago.  Well,  he 
didn't.  He  meant  to  come  here.  And  he  belongs  here 
too.  Yes  —  now  you  can  just  see  what  comes  of  reading 
the  newspapers,  when  you  can't  tell  who  it  is  by  just 
looking  at  him.  Why,  when  you  were  a  student  you 
danced  with  his  mother.  She  was  very  haughty  and  un- 
civil. And  then  you  asked  her  name,  and  found  she  was 
your  cousin.     Now  do  you  know?  " 

"Child!"  said  the  pastor,  "what  are  you  saying?  Is 
this  Antje  Baas's  son?  You  have  a  good  mother,  my  boy. 
And  your  father's  a  good  man.  I  only  saw  the  two  of 
them  once  in  my  life,  but  I  remember  them  very  well,  and 
have  asked  about  them  whenever  I  had  the  chance.  Well, 
this  is  fine,  Suse.  Come,  let's  have  supper  at  once.  And 
we'll  have  a  nice,  comfortable  time." 

She  took  hold  of  Klaus's  arm  in  her  friendly  way,  and 
took  him  into  the  living-room.  She  pushed  up  a  chair  for 
him,  set  a  place  for  him  beside  her  at  the  table,  and  gave 
him  his  bread  and  milk  herself.  Her  full,  pretty  face  was 
always  close  to  his.  "  Father,"  she  said,  "  have  you  noticed 
what  pretty  hair  he  has  ?     He's  about  as  tall  as  I  am." 

"Yes,"  said  her  father,  "and  have  you  noticed  how 
nice  and  neat  his  clothes  are?  Haven't  I  always  said 
that   his  parents   would   get   somewhere    in   the  world? 


92  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

They  were  getting  along  in  the  village.  And  when  I 
happened  to  hear  a  year  ago  that  they  had  moved  to 
Hamburg,  I  said  at  once,  'Those  people  will  get  along.' 
Thrifty  people  always  get  along  in  Hamburg  —  that's  an 
old  saying." 

Suse  looked  at  him  sweetly,  quite  lost  in  contemplation 
of  his  happy  state.  "Have  you  got  a  garden?"  she 
asked  ;    "  a  big  one  or  a  little  one  ?  " 

At  this  moment  Klaus  couldn't  possibly  have  spoken  of 
distress  and  death.  "  Only  very  rich  people  have  gardens 
in  Hamburg,"  he  said  with  great  seriousness. 

"Well,"  she  said,  relieved,  "then  you  aren't  rich." 

Her  father  laughed,  enjoying  it  immensely.  "They 
aren't  rich,  Suse,"  he  said.  "  How  could  they  be  ?  But 
they're  earning  a  good  deal  and  they'll  have  money  some 
day.  Good  people  always  get  money  in  Hamburg  —  it's 
an  old  saying." 

"  If  your  father  and  mother  get  along,"  said  Suse,  "  you 
must  be  a  landowner.  It  takes  money  for  that.  Father 
and  mother  have  money.  Wouldn't  you  like  to  be  a 
landowner  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I'd  like  to,  and  it's  very  likely  I  shall 
decide  to  be  one." 

"That's  right,"  said  Suse's  father.  "If  j^our  parents 
get  along  there  in  Hamburg  and  accumulate  means,  you 
must  go  back  to  the  country  again  and  be  a  farmer. 
That's  the  right  way  to  make  a  healthy  people." 

"  Yes,"  Klaus  Baas  said  more  firmly,  "  I've  always 
thought  I'd  like  to  be  a  landowner  ever  since  I  was  a 
little  boy.     And  I'm  going  to  put  it  through." 

"Then  you  must  come  here  in  our  neighborhood  to 
study  —  or  no  —  you  must  go  to  the  agricultural  school  in 
Hohenwestedt.  Isn't  it  fine,  father,  that  we've  got  such 
nice  relatives  in  Hamburg?  Your  father  and  mother 
must  let  you  keep  a  horse  when  you're  in  Hohenwestedt 
so  that  you  can  ride  over  to  see  us  every  Sunday.  Oh, 
joy !  won't  that  be  fine ! "  Then  she  asked  him  what 
school  he  went  to  —  the  grammar  school  ? 

"No,  the  intermediate,"  Klaus  said,  lying  on  with  hot 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  93 

cheeks,  and  talking  about  natural  history  and  English. 
With  such  talk  as  tliis  they  finally  finished  supper. 
Then  in  came  the  mother,  a  thin,  light-haired  woman. 
She  was  not  altogether  pleased  to  see  the  guest ;  indeed, 
she  looked  at  him  a  little  coolly.  Suse  told  her  that  her 
cousin  was  going  to  be  a  landowner  and  study  at  Hohen- 
westedt.  "Is  he?"  she  said,  growing  a  bit  scornful. 
"That  means  money."  Suse's  father,  to  be  sure,  said, 
"  They're  getting  along  very  well  in  Hamburg,"  but  the 
mother  refused  to  join  in  their  good  time,  and  merely 
said,  "  Well,  that's  very  fine,  but  let's  stop  making  plans 
now  and  go  to  bed.  Let  him  wash  his  feet  in  the  kitchen 
and  then  show  him  his  bed  in  the  attic." 

They  said  good  night  to  the  father  and  mother,  and 
Klaus  followed  Suse  out  to  the  kitchen.  She  brought 
him  water  and  everything  he  needed,  then  seated  herself 
on  the  kitchen  table  and  talked  to  him  about  what  she  did 
and  what  she  was  interested  in  while  he  washed  his  feet. 
Couldn't  he  stay  several  days?  She  would  show  him  the 
whole  village  and  the  colts  and  pigs  on  the  neighboring 
farms.  In  the  enthusiasm  of  planning  all  this,  she  slid 
off  the  table,  and  kneeling  before  him  while  he  washed  his 
feet  talked  away,  with  her  j'-ellow  head  propped  on  her 
hand.  He  had  little  to  say  in  return ;  he  was  thinking 
anxiously  about  the  next  day. 

Then  she  took  him  up  to  the  attic,  turned  down  the 
covers  from  the  white  bed,  and  sitting  down  on  the  floor 
with  her  back  against  the  wardrobe,  talked  on  and  on. 
The  next  time  he  came  —  oh,  couldn't  he  spend  the  sum- 
mer vacation  with  them?  It  was  too  nice  for  anything 
that  he  had  come,  and  wasn't  it  fine  that  her  father  and 
mother  thought  she  was  in  bed  long  ago,  while  she  was 
sitting  there  having  such  a  delicious  talk?  Klaus  only 
half  heard  what  she  said.  He  undressed  and  climbed 
cautiously  into  the  white  bed  while  she  still  chatted 
away.  Gradually  her  questions  and  stories  grew  less 
frequent,  and  then  she  fell  asleep.  He  heard  her  distinct 
breathing.  Then  he  raised  himself  a  little  and  desperately 
surveyed  his  situation.     It  was  as  clear  as  daylight  that 


94  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

he  could  get  no  money  in  this  house.  He  couldn't  possi- 
bly tell  these  happy,  hospitable  people  that  he  was  poor 
and  in  need.  And  then  he  had  lied !  He  shook  his  head 
and  looked  disconsolately  around  the  room.  Suse  was 
sitting  with  her  knees  drawn  up  and  her  head  resting  on 
them,  and  the  blue-gray  light  of  the  clear  spring  night  lay 
on  her  hair  hanging  loosely  over  her  shoulder  and  knee. 

He  stuck  his  legs  cautiously  out  of  bed,  dressed  himself 
again  very  softly,  and  took  his  boots  in  his  hand.  Then 
he  slipped  past  the  sleeping  child  down  the  stairs  and  out 
the  kitchen  door.  He  hastily  drew  on  his  boots  on  the 
bench  under  the  great  linden.  Then  he  started  off  in 
the  darkness  toward  Heisterberg. 

There  was  neither  moon  nor  stars,  yet  the  night  was  so 
clear  that  he  could  plainly  see  sometimes  two,  sometimes 
three  wagon  tracks  winding  along  the  broad  road.  And 
he  could  distinguish  every  clump  of  heather  at  the  side, 
and  every  twig  of  the  sparse  young  birches.  In  earlier 
centuries  the  road  had  been  the  highway  of  the  great  com- 
merce between  north  and  south,  though  now  it  had  long 
been  supplanted  by  the  railroad.  Straight,  broad,  far  re- 
moved from  the  villages,  it  made  its  lonely  way  tlirough 
the  country,  an  ancient,  lonely  traveller.  Alongside  of 
it  the  bushes  and  heather  grew  in  wild  profusion,  and 
here  and  there  was  a  tree  which  no  one  had  planted. 

From  his  early  days  Klaus  had  heard  the  grim  old 
stories  connected  with  this  old  "  Heerstrasse."  He  pulled 
out  his  penknife  and  held  it  in  his  hand  read}^  for  a  thrust. 
Once  in  a  while,  in  a  field  near  by,  or  sometimes  right  on 
the  road,  there  was  a  house,  usually  a  new  one  that  had 
been  built  by  a  settler,  in  among  some  small  thin  firs. 
When  he  came  to  one  of  these,  Klaus  walked  more  slowly, 
to  enjoy  the  sensation  of  having  some  one  near.  And 
when  he  had  passed  it,  he  hurried  again  to  get  over  the 
waste  place.  Once  he  was  terribly  friglitened  by  a  tall 
dark  thing  standing  in  the  path  just  in  front  of  him. 
With  his  heart  beating  like  a  trip-hammer,  he  made  a  big 
circle  around  it,  with  his  knife  in  his  hand.  And  then  he 
discovered  that  it  was  a  horse,  peacefully  grazing.     An 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  95 

hour  later  there  came  toward  him  a  big  heavy  wagon 
drawn  by  three  powerful  horses.  He  saw  by  its  strong, 
substantial  make  that  it  was  a  wood  or  peat  wagon,  com- 
ing from  the  marsh;  and  so  he  knew  it  must  be  near  morn- 
ing. And  he  was  not  sorry.  A  stronger,  colder  wind 
arising  half  an  hour  later  showed  that  morning  was  com- 
ing. Klaus  began  to  recognize  the  neighborhood;  and  just 
before  dawn  he  reached  Heisterberg,  footsore  and  weary. 

He  crossed  the  main  street,  and  went  straight  up  to 
the  farm  where  his  brother  worked.  Walking  around  the 
house,  he  discovered  a  light  in  a  low  window  next  to  the 
stable  door.  He  went  up  to  it  and  saw  his  brother  stand- 
ing in  his  shirt  and  stockings  in  front  of  his  chest,  comb- 
ing his  hair  carefully  with  one  hand  and  holding  a  piece 
of  broken  glass  in  the  other.  Before  every  stroke  he 
dipped  the  big  broken  comb  into  a  brown  earthen  basin  of 
water  standing  on  the  chest.  Klaus  rapped  on  the  window. 
"I'm  here,"  he  said,  "your  brother  Klaus." 

Peter  Baas  opened  the  window.  "  Come  in,"  he  said, 
putting  out  his  hand.  When  Klaus  was  inside  Peter  vsat 
down  on  the  chest,  still  holding  the  glass  and  the  comb. 

"  I'm  an  unlucky  fellow,"  he  said.  "  I  knew  I'd  have 
another  stroke  of  bad  luck  to-day.  Last  year  at  this  time 
the  browai  gelding  stepped  on  my  foot.  And  the  year 
before  that,  when  I  was  putting  tar  on  the  roof,  I  came 
mighty  near  falling  off  it.  Tell  me  right  away  wliat  it  is. 
Is  anything  the  matter  with  mother?  Has  she  done  any- 
thing to  herself?     Or  has  she  dojie  for  one  of  you?  " 

Klaus  Baas  told  him  that  his  father  was  dead,  and  told 
him  how  he  had  died.  Peter  Baas  had  laid  down  the 
comb  and  glass.  He  sat  bent  over,  with  his  hands  between 
his  knees,  looking  straight  in  front  of  him  without  saying 
a  word.  Klaus  went  on  to  tell  him  about  how  they 
needed  money,  and  about  the  useless  trips  he  had  made 
yesterday  and  the  day  before. 

Peter  Baas  listened  carefully.  Then  he  got  up,  opened 
a  narrow  rattling  door  made  of  rough  boards.  "  Trina, 
come  here,"  he  said  in  a  contained  voice,  with  all  the 
dignity  of  his  eighteen  years. 


96  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

A  large,  well-built  girl  of  sixteen  or  seventeen,  with 
damp,  smoothly  combed  hair,  came  in  at  once.  She  had 
on  her  chemise  and  underskirt,  and  was  holding  her  dress 
in  her  hand.  She  looked  closely  at  the  visitor,  but  said 
nothing.  Sitting  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  she  began 
to  curl  around  her  finger  the  little  bit  of  hair  she  had  just 
combed  out.  Peter  Baas  told  her  what  had  happened, 
and  said  that  his  mother  needed  sixty-seven  marks.  She 
looked  at  him  calmly  all  the  time.  When  she  had  finished 
twisting  the  hair  she  stood  up,  threw  her  dress  skirt  over 
her  head,  fastened  it  around  her  waist,  and  said  coolly, 
"  There's  no  question  about  it,  Peter ;  of  course  we  must 
give  them  the  money." 

It  almost  took  Klaus's  breath  away.  "  Have  they  really 
as  much  money  as  that  ?  "   he  thought. 

"  Yes,"  said  Peter ;  "  well,  then,  you  bring  it  here, 
Trina." 

Peter  slowly  put  on  his  vest  and  stable  jacket,  while 
Trina  went  to  the  bed  to  look  in  the  mattress  under  the 
pillow.  Klaus  Baas  looked  wide-eyed  at  the  bed,  and 
would  have  wondered  more  to  see  the  dents  of  two  heads 
in  the  gay  red  bolster,  if  his  thoughts  had  not  gone  back 
immediately  to  the  money.  Trina  brought  out  an  impos- 
ing purse  of  English  leather,  wrapped  round  with  twine 
and  knotted  fast  to  the  bedpost.  She  slowly  began  to 
loosen  the  knots  with  her  hands  and  teeth.  Then  Peter 
held  out  his  hands  and  she  counted  the  thalers  and  marks 
into  them.  When  the  number  was  reached  they  both 
drew  a  deep  breath.     "  There  they  are,"  they  said. 

"  Put  in  two  more  thalers,"  said  Peter. 

When  he  had  the  two,  they  looked  at  each  other  —  Klaus 
Baas  never  forgot  the  two  serious,  reflective  faces  —  then 
she  said,  "  We  must  give  it  all  to  him ;  they  certainly 
can't  have  anything  to  eat."  She  put  her  hand  away 
down  into  the  purse,  drew  out  the  last  coin,  and  laid  it 
with  the  others.  "  Well,"  she  said,  "  he  can  just  as  well 
take  the  purse  with  him  too." 

That  seemed  to  strike  Peter  hard.  "  Take  the  purse  ?  " 
he  said  slowly,  giving  her  a  long  look. 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  97 

"  I'll  make  a  new  one  this  evening,"  she  said. 

Peter  tied  up  the  bundle  about  seventeen  times  with 
cord  as  thick  as  his  finger.  At  last  he  made  a  noose  and 
hung  it  over  his  brother's  shoulder.  While  he  was  doing 
this,  and  admonishing  Klaus  about  every  misfortune  and 
every  vice  known  to  man,  Trina  was  satisfying  Klaus's 
hunger  with  a  big  chunk  of  bread  and  a  basin  of  coffee. 

Then  Peter  said,  still  looking  apprehensive,  "  How  you'll 
ever  manasre  with  mother  I  don't  know.  I  think  it  would 
be  better  to  say  that  a  rich  Jew  gave  you  the  money,  or 
something  like  that.  For  when  she  hears  that  her  son 
gave  it,  she'll  fling  it  at  your  head.  My  goodness,  there's 
a  woman  for  you !  Look  out  she  doesn't  work  herself  to 
death  —  and  keep  your  head  high.  I  suppose  I  might  go 
and  see  her  some  time,  and  see  how  she's  getting  along ; 
but  I  don't  know  —  I  alvt^ays  have  such  bad  luck  with 
her."  Then  they  shook  hands  with  him  and  let  him  out 
the  stable  door. 

He  walked  past  the  hedges,  along  the  main  street,  listen- 
ing to  the  familiar  sounds  —  the  click  of  a  door  here  and 
there,  the  rolling  of  wheels,  or  the  comfortable  lowing 
of  cattle  in  the  stalls.  When  he  had  reached  the  high 
ground,  from  which  one  can  get  a  view  of  the  whole  vil- 
lage, he  found  there  one  of  those  trestles  used  to  prevent 
traffic  on  worn-out  sides  of  the  road.  He  sat  down  on  it, 
holding  fast  with  both  hands  to  the  bundle  on  his  lap,  and 
looked  down  upon  his  birthplace,  lost  in  vague  thoughts, 
and  struck  by  the  vast  loneliness  and  silence.  From  afar 
he  heard  in  his  ear  the  tumult  of  the  great  cit}',  and  he 
felt  an  impulse  gently  drawing  him  toward  it,  as  toward  a 
stronger  and  a  brighter  life. 


When  he  reached  home,  toward  evening,  he  found  the 
three  children  standing  around  the  fireplace.  Hanna's 
great,  strangely  grave  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  pan  in 
which  the  beans  were  cooking.  The  two  little  ones  were 
standing  one  on  each  side  of  her,  and  very  close.  In 
token  of  mourning,  they  had  on  dark  neckerchiefs,  which 


98  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

had  been  hastily  dyed  black ;   the  dye  came  off  so  badly 
that  their  necks  were  a  sort  of  purple. 

When  Hanna  told  him  that  their  father  was  being  buried, 
and  that  their  mother  was  at  the  funeral,  he  said  loftily, 
"  I  know.  That's  why  I  came  back  to-day.  I  had  a 
matter  to  attend  to  for  father."  Then  he  went  through 
the  flat  to  see  that  it  was  in  order.  Their  mother  would 
sew  steadily  now,  he  said,  and  he  would  earn  money,  too. 
Tired  out,  he  sat  down  on  the  chair  by  the  window  with 
the  bundle  of  money  on  the  window-sill  beside  him  and 
waited  anxiously  for  his  mother  to  come. 

She  came  back  from  the  grave  pale  and  cold  as  ice. 
When  she  saw  him  sitting  there,  she  straightened  up  a 
little  and  said  in  a  relieved  voice,  "It's  good  you're 
back." 

Klaus  stood  up  and  gave  her  the  bundle.  "  Peter 
wants  to  be  remembered  to  you,"  he  said ;  "  he  sent  this 
along  by  me." 

When  she  took  the  package  in  her  hand  and  saw  how 
heavy  it  was,  her  face  turned  very  red,  and  she  carried 
the  package  into  the  other  room.  After  a  while  she  came 
out  again  and  went  out  of  the  house,  without  doubt  to 
pay  her  debt. 

The  next  day  Klaus  went  to  the  artist's  to  tell  her 
what  had  happened  and  to  say  that  he  would  have  to  look 
around  for  some  other  work  that  would  take  his  whole 
time.     But  he  found  the  door  locked. 

On  the  following  Sunday  he  was  confirmed.  There 
was  no  money  for  new  clothes,  so  Antje  Baas  brushed 
and  brushed  the  old  suit,  with  a  set  face.  To  have  the 
boy  she  loved  passionately  go  to  church  on  his  confirma- 
tion day  in  an  old  coat  was  bitterly  unendurable  to  her  — 
as  her  husband's  death  had  been.  As  Klaus  reached  the 
street  Kalli  Dau  was  coming  out  of  the  shop  door.  He 
had  on  his  shabby,  poverty-stricken  Sunday  clothes,  in 
which  he  looked  especially  little  and  thin.  But,  assured 
and  self-possessed  as  usual,  he  told  Klaus  how  he  had 
darned  up  the  holes  in  the  sleeve  himself,  his  mother  hav- 
ing had  no  time  for  it.     "That's  a  family  for  you!"  he 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  99 

said.  He  looked  starved,  and  there  was  an  old,  sober  look 
in  his  dark  eyes. 

In  church  they  sat  with  the  rest  in  their  place  and  re- 
garded the  whole  performance  as  they  would  have  regarded 
a  phiy  at  a  theatre.  In  the  pastor's  instructions  they  had 
heard  nothing  that  sounded  especially  grand  or  beautiful, 
and  what  they  had  heard  they  had  not  believed.  They 
went  mechanically  through  the  silent  part  they  had  to 
play  before  the  altar. 

They  walked  home  through  genuine  sloppy  Hamburg 
weather.  They  turned  up  their  coat  collars  and  slipped 
along  the  walls  of  the  houses.  Now  and  then  they  said 
something  about  their  plans.  Kalli  Dau's  father  and 
mother  wanted  him  to  go  on  helping  in  the  business,  so 
that  the}^  could  loaf  around,  as  Kalli  said.  But  if  he 
stayed  it  would  be  on  account  of  his  two  little  brothers, 
who  would  go  to  the  dogs  without  him.  Still  he  didn't 
know  whether  he  could  hold  out  any  longer  with  that 
wretch  of  a  stepfather.  Klaus  Baas  didn't  unburden 
himself  further.  He  took  long  decided  steps  and  his  face 
was  very  grave.  He  only  said  casually  that  the  first  thing 
he  had  to  do  was  to  earn  a  hundred  marks  by  some  means 
or  other.  And  then  he  would  go  in  with  a  storekeeper 
and  learn  the  business. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

The  next  day  the  weather  was  even  sloppier.  A  damp 
west  wind  was  spitting  a  steady  little  sprinkle  of  rain  on 
houses,  streets,  wagons,  and  people,  and  the  air  was  so 
full  of  gray  mist  that  no  one  remembered  that  there  was 
blue  sky  behind  it ;  people  had  forgot  what  the  sun  looked 
like.  Klaus  had  all  sorts  of  things  to  see  to  at  home  in 
the  morning,  so  that  it  was  afternoon  when  he  could  go 
to  Kalli  Dau's. 

When  he  got  to  the  door  of  the  flower  shop  —  it  was 
always  open  —  and  curved  out  cautiously  around  the  door, 
he  saw  his  little  friend  scratching  and  biting  his  step- 
father, who  was  trying  to  lay  him  over  his  knee.  Klaus 
had  just  time  to  jump  to  one  side  as  Kalli  Dau  flew  out 
past  him  like  a  ball  into  the  gutter.  He  got  on  to  his 
miserable  little  legs  again  in  an  instant  and  made  for  the 
other  side  of  the  street.  The  great  black  man,  whose 
face  was  bleeding,  came  to  the  door  and  yelled  for  a 
policeman ;  people  ran  to  their  doors  and  windows,  and  a 
policeman  started  up  from  the  Grossneumarkt.  Kalli 
Dau,  seeing  all  this,  thought  that  it  was  time  to  get  away, 
and  trotted  off  around  the  corner. 

Hiding  in  a  doorway,  and  spying  out  now  and  then, 
they  talked  about  what  they  had  better  do.  The  council 
was  short.  "I'm  not  going  to  let  myself  be  jugged," 
said  Kalli  Dau,  "  and  then  let  that  big  fellow  murder  me 
afterward ;  you  go  get  my  stuff,  and  my  papers,  and  the 
money  under  the  flower-pot." 

Klaus  Baas  ran  back.  Standing  on  the  other  side  of 
the  street,  he  called  over  to  ask  whether  he  could  have 
the  things. 

Kalli's  mother  appeared.     "What  does  he  want  with 

100 


KLAUS   EINRieH  BaaS  101 

them?  "  she  called  across.  "  Is  he  going  to  sea?  I'll  tell 
him  one  thing :  if  he  gets  crippled  at  it,  he'll  never  come 
inside  my  door  again." 

"Crippled?"  Kalli  Dau  said  —  he  had  slipped  up  cau- 
tiously behind  Klaus,  and  was  standing  some  distance  off. 
"  I  don't  need  that  to  cripple  me  ;  you've  made  me  a  crip- 
ple already  !  Just  look  at  my  legs  once  1  Before  I'd  come 
back  home  again,  I'd  jump  overboard." 

She  went  back  into  the  shop,  and  came  out  again  with 
Kalli's  things,  bundled  up  in  a  red  checkered  cloth,  a 
handful  of  silver,  and  some  papers,  all  of  which  she  gave 
to  Klaus  Baas,  saying,  without  looking  up,  "  Tell  him  to 
behave  himself."  Then  she  went  in  again,  looking  rather 
dovv'ncast. 

They  went  along  the  Baumwall  to  the  Reilierstieg, 
where  there  was  a  three-master  whose  second  mate  Kalli 
Dau  knew.  The  last  gang  of  workmen  had  just  left  the 
schooner ;  the  two  small  cables  were  already  being  run 
along  the  sides.  Kalli  Dau  pushed  b}',  nevertheless,  and 
said  to  the  captain,  holding  out  his  papers :  "  Take  me  with 
you.  I  can  make  coffee,  and  I  can  climb  like  a  cat,  and 
I  can — "  but  the  first  officer  was  already  standing  on  the 
gangway  —  he  filled  it  up  completely  —  talking  to  the 
captain. 

The  captain  looked  down  on  the  little  fellow.  "  I  have 
two  cabin-boys  already,"  he  said  ;  "you're  too  small,  any- 
how." 

Kalli  Dau  still  stood  there,  looking  up  dumbly  with  his 
dark  eyes. 

"  What  else  does  the  fellow  want  ? "  the  first  officer 
said,  taking  him  by  the  shoulders  and  shoving  him  back. 
"  Go  over  to  that  Norwegian  bark,  you  little  crab  !  maybe 
you'll  get  a  place  there." 

They  got  off  the  gangway  and  ran  across. 

The  little  bark,  which  lay  close  up  to  the  dock,  had 
been  unloading  redwood,  and  the  deck  was  still  covered 
with  it.  The  captain  and  the  mate,  elderly,  bearded  men, 
were  sitting  smoking  on  the  half  deck  in  front  of  the 
cabin.     They  looked  up  pleasantly  as  Kalli  Dau,  leaning 


102  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

down  from  the  dock  and  talking  almost  into  their  faces, 
began  to  tell  the  story  of  his  life.  He  dropped  his  bun- 
dle and  showed  them  the  weals  on  his  arm ;  and  when  he 
saw  that  they  did  not  understand  him,  he  patched  it  out 
with  gestures  and  words  of  English. 

They  looked  at  each  other,  shaking  their  heads,  and 
said,  enraged,  "  And  him  such  a  little  cub,  too  ! "  They 
questioned  him  and  Klaus  pretty  sharply  to  find  out 
whether  Kalli's  story  was  true.  Then  they  took  his  pa- 
pers. While  the  captain  was  reading  them,  Kalli  tried  to 
make  an  impression  on  the  mate  with  his  gleaming  eyes. 
"  I  can  make  coffee  —  I  can  tie  a  bowline  knot  —  I  can 
climb  like  a  cat." 

The  captain  took  another  look  at  him.  "  Well,  then," 
he  said,  in  his  pleasant  singsong,  "  you  come  along,  we're 
going  to  Canada." 

Kalli  Dau,  without  a  word,  nodded  to  Klaus  Baas, 
jumped  on  board  with  one  spring,  and  disappeared  in  the 
forecastle. 

Klaus  Baas  looked  after  him,  wide-eyed.  As  Kalli  did 
not  come  back,  he  turned  around  quietly,  went  back  to 
the  ferry,  and  rode  across  to  the  Baumwall  again. 

The  wind  had  died  down.  Klaus,  feeling  altogether 
abandoned,  went  along  the  harbor  in  the  dull,  sloppy 
weather,  toward  the  Kajen,  wondering  what  he  would  do 
now  without  Kalli  Dau's  advice. 

As  he  was  going  along  the  railing  of  the  embankment, 
he  ran  into  Jonni  Dau,  standing  there  in  his  dirty,  run- 
over  shoes,  his  hands  buried  in  his  torn  pockets,  shivering, 
coughing,  and  staring  stupidly  out  over  the  street.  When 
he  saw  Klaus  Baas,  he  said,  "  Well,  have  you  handed  my 
brother  over  to  somebody  ?  He'll  get  more  than  he  bar- 
gained for  at  sea,  and  that's  no  joke." 

Klaus  Baas  looked  out  over  the  water.  "He's  over 
there  on  a  Norwegian  bark,  at  the  Reiherstieg,"  he  said. 
"  Won't  you  go  over  to  see  him  once  more  ? " 

Jonni  looked  down  at  Klaus  without  understanding 
him.     "Why,  what's  there  to  see  in  him?  " 

Klaus  Baas  said  nothing.     Then  he  conquered  himself. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  103 

and  said,  "I  want  to  get  some  work.  I  want  to  earn 
some  money  right  away.     Do  you  know  of  anything  ?  " 

"Will  you  give  me  a  glass  of  kiimmel  ?"  Jonni  said. 

Klaus  Baas  shook  his  head  and  started  on. 

Jonni  Dau  shifted  his  weight  lazily  to  the  other  leg. 
"  You'll  have  to  do  like  me,"  he  said ;  "  work  now  and 
then  so  as  to  get  something  to  booze  with.  If  you  can't 
get  along  without  working,  be  a  kettle-mender,  or  join 
the  street-cleaners'  brigade.  You  can  always  get  a  job 
there." 

Klaus  stared  out  in  front  of  him.  He  knew  how  things 
went  with  that  kind  of  people.  He  turned  away  sadly 
and  went  on. 

He  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the  street,  where  the 
houses  would  shelter  him  from  the  rain.  Near  the  Maaten- 
twiete  he  came  to  a  place  where  they  were  tearing  down  a 
lot  of  old  houses  along  a  canal.  Klaus  looked  at  it  with 
boyish  curiosity,  and  then  went  in  to  take  shelter  under  a 
half  torn  down  wall  by  the  canal.  He  sat  there  wondering 
helplessly,  looking  out  over  the  wet  confusion  of  ships, 
wharves,  piles,  pontoons,  and  sloops.  The  water  rolled  up 
and  down  between  them,  and  the  little  harbor  steamers, 
sloops,  and  lighters  ploughed  along  past  one  another.  A 
large  steamer  going  up  the  channel  was  making  its  way 
along  among  the  little  fellows  crossing  its  path  and  de- 
manding the  right  of  way  with  its  threatening  roar. 
Klaus's  heart  was  very  heavy ;  the  gloomy  weather  had 
some  influence  too.  Wherever  could  he  find  work  and 
money  ? 

As  he  was  staring  out  into  the  gloomy  twilight,  a  rough 
voice  from  the  canal  below  called,  "You  little  idiot  there  ! 
Haven't  you  anything  to  do  ?     Catch  hold  of  this  I  " 

Klaus  looked  down  and  saw  a  short  broad  man  in  a  barge 
filled  with  refuse  from  the  buildings,  trying  to  push  it 
away  from  the  wall  and  get  it  out  into  deeper  water. 
Klaus  looked  around  for  a  place  to  get  down.  He  jumped 
on  a  cellar  way  that  had  been  torn  open,  and  slid  down 
the  man's  sloping  boat-hook  into  the  barge.  He  graljbed 
up  the  other  boat-hook  that  was  lying  by  the  edge,  and 


104  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

pushing  with  all  the  power  he  had  against  the  wall,  he 
helped  to  work  the  barge  free.  Then  he  helped  to  work 
it  on.  They  worked  along  slowly  under  the  bridge  and 
then  through  a  mass  of  sloops  moored  in  the  harbor. 
The  broad-shouldered  man  did  not  say  a  word ;  he  acted 
as  if  he  had  always  had  this  assistant. 

When  they  had  reached  open  water,  they  kept  at  its 
edge,  and  were  carried  down  by  the  ebb  tide.  The  man 
was  standing  back  on  the  cabin  roof  at  the  helm ;  his  new 
helper  was  sitting  on  the  deck  at  his  feet,  wearing  an 
ancient  gray  oilskin,  which  the  man  had  taken  out  of  the 
cabin  and  thrown  to  him.  Klaus  was  somewhat  anxious 
about  how  the  thing  would  come  out ;  but  the  man's  taci- 
turn way  was  so  like  the  slow,  methodical  workmen  he 
had  been  used  to  all  his  life  that  he  soon  cheered  up  again. 
"  This  afternoon  or  to-night  I'll  surely  have  some  money," 
he  thought.  So  he  took  courage  again  and  looked  around 
him.  A  ferry-boat,  crowded  with  workmen,  passed  them. 
In  the  growing  darkness,  the  workmen's  bodies  looked  like 
a  dark  mass,  and  their  faces  like  white  specks.  A  steamer 
coming  up-stream  sent  a  swell  against  their  low  edge,  and 
splashed  the  waves  up  on  it.  Over  from  the  city  came  the 
sound  of  wagons  rolling  along  ;  but  over  on  the  other  side, 
in  the  dark,  confused  masses  of  the  wharves,  not  a  single 
hammer  was  beating.  Now  and  then  a  steamer  whistled; 
the  anchor-chain  of  a  lighter  rattled  down ;  the  water 
rippled  and  gurgled,  and  everywhere  reddish  lights  shone 
through  the  mist. 

By  this  time  they  had  passed  the  Landungs-Briicke  at 
St.  Pauli.  The  lights  were  fewer;  the  noises  were  farther 
away ;  the  water  played  and  splashed  more  strongly 
against  the  boat.  They  slid  past  a  lighter  lying  at  anchor, 
the  light  from  its  lantern  gleaming  faintly  over  the  slow, 
bright  waves.  A  clear,  pleasant  voice  called  across  cheer- 
ily, "  Say,  Hein,  where  are  you  going  to  dump  that  rub- 
bish ?  "  Klaus  caught  the  joking  tone  in  the  question,  and 
looked  up  suspiciously,  but  the  big  man  above  him  said 
nothing ;  he  did  not  even  look  around.  They  floated  on 
for  some  time  longer ;  then  the  taciturn  man  turned  the 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  105 

bar(Te  toward  the  south  bank,  sculling  with  the  heavy  oar. 
Slowly  they  glided  over  the  dark  green  plain.  Far  off  a 
low  bright  sandbar  came  in  sight,  and  there  they  threw 
out  the  anchor. 

Without  saying  a  word,  the  man  began  to  throw  the 
rubbish  over  the  edge  into  the  water.  Klaus  seized  the 
second  shovel  and  imitated  him.  Shovelful  after  shovel- 
ful splashed  over  the  edge.  Klaus's  bod}'-  bent  like  a 
young  willow,  and  his  breath  came  heavy  and  hard. 
When  he  had  worked  away  vigorously  for  a  while,  the 
man  said,  "Get  your  breath  a  while."  Klaus  stood  still, 
leaning  on  his  shovel  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  went 
on  workinsr. 

The  monotonous  work  in  the  great  broad  silence  made 
thoughts  come  and  go  like  pictures,  passing  one  after  an- 
other in  a  silent  train.  How  still  and  tired  father's  face 
was  at  the  last — and  it  used  to  be  so  cheerful,  and  often 
so  droll !  and  now  it  was  absolutely  still,  in  the  grave !  — 
What  was  mother  doing  now  —  she  was  probably  still 
sitting  at  her  machine,  sewing,  sewing,  sewing,  to  get 
bread  enough  for  her  five  children.  If  his  schoolfellows 
ao  Heisterberg  could  only  see  him  now,  working  this  way, 
out  in  the  middle  of  the  water,  at  night !  If  brother 
Peter  could  see  him!  He'd  open  his  eyes!  He'd  say, 
"  What  are  you  doing  out  there  ?  I  can  do  that  better 
than  you  can!  "  Peter  hoped  for  great  things  from  him. 
Well,  just  let  him  wait  !  Just  as  soon  as  he  got  those 
ninety  marks  together,  he'd  show  what  he  could  do.  How 
much  would  the  man  give  him,  five  groschen,  or  maybe  a 
whole  mark  ?  If  he  got  a  whole  mark,  he'd  put  away 
only  half  of  it  for  Timraermann ;  mother  should  have 
the  other  half.  Of  course!  for  just  now,  at  the  begin- 
ning, they  were  really  in  need  ;  afterward  mother  will 
manage  it  ;  she's  so  industrious  and  so  capable!  In 
thinking  of  these  things,  he  had  thrown  himself  at  the 
work  too  vigorously;  his  breath  came  in  hard  grasps,  and  the 
palms  of  his  hands  began  to  hurt.  The  big  man  noticed  it. 
"  Take  your  time,"  he  said.  He  brought  out  some  tallow 
for  Klaus  to  rub  into  his  hands,  and  Klaus  rested  a  while. 


106  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

"When  they  had  finished,  they  brought  the  barge  up 
close  to  the  sand.  The  man  brought  bacon  sandwiches 
and  cold  coffee  out  of  the  cabin,  and  gave  Klaus  as  much 
of  both  as  he  wanted.  They  sat  there  without  saying 
anytliing,  eating  away  and  looking  out  over  the  broad 
dark  water  and  the  gray  sand-bank  at  the  side. 

Then  they  jumped  out  on  the  sandbar  and  began  to  fill 
the  barge  with  the  good  white  Elbe  sand,  which  makes 
splendid  mortar.  It  was  heavy  work,  but  Klaus  helped 
as  well  as  his  strength  and  the  painful  blisters  on  his 
hands  would  let  him.  When  they  were  done,  they  crept 
into  the  cabin  and  slept  for  several  hours  on  the  hard 
bench. 

Before  the  day  began  to  dawn,  they  started  home. 
They  put  up  the  mast,  ran  up  a  little  square  sail,  and 
hoisted  anchor.  As  the  tide  rose,  they  floated  off  the 
sandbar.  Aided  by  wind  and  tide,  they  slipped  easily 
out  of  the  Kohlbrand  and  back  to  the  city.  The  still, 
clear  night,  the  gurgling  and  gliding  of  the  broad  channel 
in  which  they  were  driving  along,  the  hush  that  night 
brought  to  the  great  workshops  of  the  harbor,  the  work 
and  vigil,  the  strange  man  standing  silent  at  the  helm  le- 
side  him,  his  family, — the  living  asleep  in  the  little  flat  in 
Rademachersgang,  and  the  dead  asleep  in  the  churchyard, 
— his  whole  short  life,  beautiful,  and  yet  hard,  — all  this  his 
impressionable  boyish  soul  played  about,  seeing  it  all,  in 
tills  great  stretch  of  open,  more  clearly  and  distinctly  than 
ever  before.  There  was  the  lighter  again,  at  the  side, 
deep  in  the  water,  as  if  it  were  going  to  sink  in;  its  light 
shone  out  far  over  the  stream,  like  a  glittering  ribbon  of 
pure  gold.  Somewhere  there  must  be  some  great  good 
fortune  coming  to  him,  he  thought — it  must  be  going  to 
rise  up  like  a  golden  light  out  of  the  depths.  A  large 
steamer,  coming  up  with  the  tide,  went  slowly  past  them, 
looming  up  gigantic  from  the  depths  in  which  she  was 
driving  along.  How  many  lights  !  That  was  the  fore- 
castle—  that  the  bridge  —  those  seven  lights  in  a  row  were 
in  the  cabin  —  suppose  there  was  a  stranger  in  there,  a 
great  proud  man  with  a  keen  face,  coming  to  visit  them  in 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  107 

Rademachersgang. — The  man  had  been  in  love  with  tlieir 
mother  years  ago  and  had  gone  away  and  left  her.  That's 
why  she  was  so  harsh  and  queer — and  that's  why  he,  the 
third  child,  was  different  from  the  others  —  liis  mother  had 
said  once,  in  her  unpleasant  way,  that  he  was  the  cleverest, 
and  she  treated  him  tlie  most  severely  —  and  now  tliis 
stranger  was  coming  from  far  away  — and  to-morrow,  why, 
no,  it  was  to-day  —  now,  when  their  need  was  the  greatest, 
he  would  walk  into  their  flat.  And  everything,  everything, 
would  turn  to  pure  luck  and  gold.  And  he  would  be  a 
country  gentleman  and  buy  himself  a  great,  great  estate 
and  marry  Suse  Garbens ;  and  Hanna,  who  Avas  alwaj^s 
playing  school  with  the  children,  should  go  to  the  high 
school. 

When  the  gray  dawn  came,  the  barge,  full  of  beautiful 
sand,  lay  moored  again  at  the  cellarway  by  the  fallen 
buildings.  The  man  pulled  out  a  leather  purse  and  gave 
Klaus  ten  shining  groschen  —  a  whole  mark.  "Can  you 
keej3your  mouth  shut?"  he  asked  curtly.  Klaus  nodded 
vigorously.     "  Come  back  to-night  at  seven  !  " 

Klaus  clambered  ashore  and  ran  home  the  shortest  way, 
through  the  Herrengraben  and  through  the  network  of 
alleys  above  the  Grossneumarkt. 

Antje  Baas,  who  was  standing  on  the  hearth,  said  noth- 
ing. He  told  her  what  he  had  been  doing  all  night ;  it 
had  been  lots  of  fun,  he  said,  and  the  man  was  a  very 
decent  sort  of  fellow.  He  pulled  the  mark  out  of  his 
pocket  slowly  with  his  stiff,  blistered  hand,  and  laid  it 
down.     She  acted  as  if  she  did  not  see  it. 

While  he  was  sitting  at  the  window  drinking  his  coffee, 
she  said  curtly,  "  I've  got  to  get  over  this  first  part  some- 
how ;  after  that  you've  got  to  learn  to  be  a  storekeeper." 

"  Time  enough  for  that,"  Klaus  said  good-humoredly. 
"  First  I'll  get  a  little  money  together,  so  that  I  can  buy 
another  suit,  and  such  things.  After  that  I'll  begin.  I'm 
going  out  again  to-night  with  the  Old  Wolf  ;  it's  lots  of 
fun.'' 

He  went  out  with  the  man  every  day  now.  When  he 
went  home  after  one  trip  was  finished,  he  got  his  orders 


108  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

when  to  appear  again.  Sometimes,  when  he  came,  he 
found  the  Old  Wolf  asleep  in  the  cabin ;  if  he  did  not 
lind  him  there,  he  looked  for  him  in  the  little  tavern  near 
the  Westminster  Hotel. 

Once,  in  the  beginning,  when  he  could  not  find  tlie 
man,  he  had  to  ask  if  he  had  been  at  the  tavern.  He 
could  not  give  the  man's  name,  and  so  he  had  to  say, 
"  He's  a  short,  broad  man,  that  never  says  anything." 

Several  men  sitting  there  winked  at  him,  and  said,  "  Say 
—  we  don't  know  very  much  about  him  —  do  you  both 
dump  the  rubbish  in  the  Elbe  ?  " 

Klaus  remembered,  "  Can  you  hold  your  tongue  ?  "  He 
stared  at  them,  and  said  nothing. 

Then  they  laughed,  and  said,  "  Go  and  lie  down  in  the 
cabin.     We'll  tell  Peter  Soot  that  you're  there." 

Usually,  however,  Peter  Soot  was  there,  sitting  alone 
at  a  table  with  a  glass  of  steaming  punch  in  front  of  him, 
dozing  away. 

They  carried  away  rubbish  from  the  houses  all  summer. 
Usually  they  worked  in  the  da34ime.  They  loaded  the 
barge  at  the  houses,  pushed  or  floated  along  tov/ard  the 
Reiherstieg,  where  they  threw  the  load  out  on  the  land ; 
then  they  went  to  one  of  the  sandbars,  filled  the  barge, 
and  came  back  again.  But  when  a  misty,  rainy  day  came, 
and  the  tide  served,  they  slipped  down  in  the  night  to  the 
Kohlbrand  and  dumped  the  rubbish  in  there,  where  the 
city  had  to  dredge  it  out  again.  Then  they  loaded  in 
their  sand  right  there,  and  in  the  gray  morning  light  the 
loaded  barge  was  anchored  by  the  houses.  They  always 
had  good  luck.  Sometimes,  in  spite  of  night  and  mist 
and  rain,  a  police  boat  happened  to  come  up  alongside, 
asking,  "  Well,  Hein,  where's  that  rubbish  going  ?  "  or, 
"Where  did  that  sand  come  from?"  or,  "What,  out  in 
the  night  and  mist  ?  "  Then  Peter  Soot  gave  them  some 
curt,  unfriendly  answer  —  "Had  bad  luck!"  or,  "Ran 
aground  ! "  or,  "  I  can't  sleep  at  night  I "  And  they  glided 
on  through  the  night  and  the  mist. 

And  so  they  pushed  or  drifted  up  and  down  the  harbor. 
In  the  daytime  they  had  to  watch  out  carefully  to  make 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  109 

their  way  through  the  rough  water  between  the  little 
steamers,  lighters,  and  tugs  ;  but  at  night  they  could  fall 
asleep,  free  from  care,  on  the  broad,  empty  stream.  Some- 
times Klaus  saw  the  towers  of  St.  Michael  and  St.  Catherine 
towering  above  the  roofs  and  glistening  green  in  the  sun- 
light ;  and  on  other  days  he  saw  them  floating  through 
mist  and  rain.  He  saw  the  sun  rise  and  saw  it  set  ;  in 
spite  of  all  the  smoke  that  lies  over  the  harbor  traffic,  he 
saw  it  coming  up  so  swiftly  out  of  the  water  that  he  had 
to  shade  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at  it.  He  saw  the  soft 
moonlight  light  up  the  rigging  of  a  great  bark  coming  up 
the  harbor  so  that  it  stood  out  against  the  clear  night  sky 
like  a  piece  of  wonderful  embroidery.  And  he  saw  days 
and  nights  of  a  different  kind,  when  the  thick,  dirty  air 
lay  over  the  harbor  like  a  wet,  gray  sack.  There  were 
days  when  a  gusty  whirling  wind  chased  such  heavy  squalls 
across  the  water  that  the  steamers,  which  could  not  hear 
or  see  an3^thiug,  whistled  away  at  each  other,  and  the 
choppy,  dirty  yellow  waves  splashed  over  the  edge  so  fre- 
quently that  Klaus  stared  first  at  the  water  that  came  in 
and  then  at  Peter  Soot's  face.  Once,  near  the  Kohlbrand, 
he  spent  a  night  that  was  so  very  still  and  when  the 
sounds  carried  so  far,  that  down  below  in  the  barge  he 
could  hear  the  captain  away  up  on  the  bridge  of  an  in- 
coming liner  ask  the  pilot  as  he  came  on  board  about  the 
old  Emperor,  who  was  sick  then.  He  saw  a  Bohemian 
woman  sitting  on  the  deck  of  a  boat  that  had  come  from 
the  upper  part  of  the  river,  teaching  her  little  brown-faced 
daughter  to  knit  ;  Klaus  would  have  liked  to  talk  to  the 
little  girl.  And  once  he  saw  a  heavy  cask  of  palm  oil 
smash  down  on  the  planks  of  the  dock  when  the  chain  of 
the  derrick  broke ;  then  he  heard  the  loud  scolding  of  the 
workmen.  He  saw  the  young  clerks  standing  in  the 
barges,  looking  after  the  chests  and  bales  as  they  slid 
down  into  the  lighters.  Klaus  looked  at  them  long  and 
enviously  ;  if  he  could  only  be  a  merchant  like  that  ! 
And  he  saw  the  hull  of  a  new  ship  sliding  down  into  the 
water,  and  wondered  how  they  managed  to  make  it  swim 
so  straight. 


110  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

When  his  work  was  done,  he  went  home  the  straightest 
way,  where  the  Klefeker  Strasse  crosses  the  Schaarniarkt 
and  the  Herrengraben.  In  through  there  a  wild  feverish 
life  went  on  from  evening  till  toward  morning.  Jesting, 
drunken  sailors  from  all  parts  of  the  world  strolled  around, 
and  women  leaned  out  of  the  windows  of  the  brilliantly 
lighted  rooms.  Sometimes  they  threw  evil  jests  at  him, 
and  sometimes  the  sailors  stopped  him ;  but  he  looked 
neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left,  and  got  through  it  all  safe 
and  sound.  It  was  not  the  fear  of  God  that  brought  him 
through ;  it  was  his  healthy  youth,  and  the  good  blood  in 
him,  and  the  thought  of  his  father  and  mother — particu- 
larly of  his  mother. 

At  home  she  was  sitting  with  hard,  set  face  at  the 
machine,  with  cloth  and  all  sorts  of  sewing  materials  heaped 
up  all  around  her  ;  and  across  from  her  sat  a  little  creature 
helping.  Sometimes  one  of  the  simple  neighbor  women 
was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  talking  away  or 
else  decently  silent,  while  her  measures  were  being  taken. 
She  did  not  look  up  from  her  Avork  when  Klaus  came 
home ;  she  only  looked  over  toward  the  hearth,  which  she 
could  see  from  her  chair,  to  see  whether  Hanna  had  heated 
up  the  coffee  and  set  out  the  beans,  so  that  Klaus  should 
get  his  share. 

When  fall  came,  Peter  Soot  got  work  for  the  barge  at 
the  Kleiner  Grasbrook,  near  the  place  where  the  Kranhoft 
is  now.  Bad  weather  set  in  early  and  it  was  dark  and 
bitter  cold  in  the  early  mornings  when  he  went  through 
the  still  streets  to  the  harbor :  the  damp  wind  blew  in 
over  the  deck  of  the  ferry-boat,  crowded  with  workmen,  so 
that  he  nearly  froze,  in  spite  of  the  thick  pea-jacket  he 
wore.  Klaus  tried  to  get  a  place  beside  the  engine ;  he 
struck  up  an  acquaintance  with  a  deck-hand  who  was  sitting 
on  the  engine  in  the  lee  of  the  pilot-house,  with  his  knees 
drawn  up,  who  nodded  to  him.  He  was  a  little  fellow, 
with  a  great  scar  right  across  his  mouth,  that  he  had  got 
by  falling  out  of  a  window ;  he  had  been  a  venturesome 
little  climber  all  his  life.  He  wanted  to  be  a  sailor,  but 
his  mother,  who  was  a  widow,  like  Klaus's,  still  hoped  to 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  111 

keep  him  from  it,  and  had  made  him  promise  to  work  a 
year  on  a  ferry-boat  first.  Sometimes  a  horribly  ugly,  thin 
negro  sat  beside  them,  holding  his  thin,  grayish  blue  hands 
over  the  heat,  and  looking  pitifully  cold  in  his  thin  clothes. 
They  talked  German  and  English  to  him,  as  well  as  they 
could  ;  they  talked  about  how  much  it  cost  to  live,  about 
his  lodgings,  about  the  ship  that  had  brought  him  over 
from  Liberia,  and  about  his  home.  He  had  run  away  from 
a  French  ship,  and  had  got  work  as  a  riveter. 

Once,  while  the  three  were  sitting  there,  two  young 
clerks  stood  near  them  ;  they  were  going  over,  early  as  it 
was,  to  check  up  the  chests  and  bales  that  their  firm  was 
shipping  off.  Seeing  the  curious,  respectful  glances  that 
Klaus  was  throwing  at  them,  they  began,  boylike,  to  boast  a 
little  about  their  firm  and  their  commission.  Klaus  listened 
attentively,  making  pictures,  as  usual,  about  their  work. 
Yes,  that  would  surely  be  a  good  career,  he  thought. 
That  would  be  something  different  from  being  a  store- 
keeper !  To  sit  in  an  oifice,  to  go  across  the  sea,  to  order 
great  quantities  of  goods  and  ship  them  off,  to  earn  a  great, 
great  deal  of  money  at  it  !  But  how  could  he  ever  get 
at  it? 

And  then  he  ran  along  the  piling  to  the  place  where 
the  barge  was  moored,  and  they  shoved  it  or  let  it  float 
along.  They  always  made  their  way  alone,  even  in  windy 
or  rainy  weather,  and  never  had  a  tug  to  tow  them  across 
the  choppy,  dark  green  stream,  over  which  the  gray  dark- 
ness of  the  sliarp  autumn  night  still  lay.  There  was  a 
horrible  stir  and  bustle  in  the  semi-darkness.  The  harbor 
was  too  small  then  for  the  growing  traffic ;  over  on  the 
Grasbrook  and  Kuh warder  new  docks  were  being  built, 
but  when  would  they  be  ready  ?  A  ferry-boat  comes  along 
toward  them,  steaming  on  in  a  grayish  white  foam,  and 
shrieking  out  loud,  agitated  whistles ;  a  broad  tug  drives 
along  past  them,  with  the  water  springing  and  bubbling 
around  it.  There's  another  tug,  coming  toward  them  ; 
does  it  want  to  go  straight  on,  or  to  cross  over  to  lar- 
board? It  whistles  shrilly  twice,  and  turns  slowly  right 
into  the  channel  ;  the  barges  slide  past  each  other,  bump- ' 


112  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

ing  hard  as  they  go  ;  the  men  scold  back  and  forth  angrily. 
A  huge  steamer  looms  up  suddenly  out  of  the  mist  and 
rain;  it  is  lying  in  the  middle  of  the  channel  on  the 
larboard ;  there  was  no  room  for  it  at  the  docks,  and  it 
had  to  anchor  out  here.  A  little  ferry-boat  is  lying  beside 
it,  its  deck  covered  with  stevedores.  They  begin  to  climb 
slowly  up  the  iron  ladders  that  hang  down  over  its  high 
slippery  iron  side ;  the  two  lines  of  men  look  like  two 
black,  many-legged  caterpillars,  as  they  crawl  and  climb  up. 
There  is  a  sharp  cold  wind  blowing,  and  the  rain  splashes 
off  from  the  iron  wall  straight  into  the  climbers'  faces; 
below  them  the  water  rushes  and  splashes.  Klaus  Baas, 
looking  up  at  them,  thinks,  "If  only  they  don't  step  on 
each  other's  hands  —  how  slippery  those  wet  ropes  must 
be  —  their  hands  must  be  awfully  stiff."  A  little  steamer, 
trying  to  turn  around,  comes  too  near  to  the  barge ;  Peter 
Soot,  standing  at  the  wheel,  cries  out,  "  Look  out  there  ! " 
It  was  the  first  time  he  had  spoken  on  that  detestable 
morning.  Klaus  Baas  shoves  against  the  steamer's  side 
with  his  boat-hook.  Suddenly,  from  far  up  above  on  the 
ship's  side,  a  clear,  sharp  cry  rings  out :  "  Hold  fast,  Tally- 
man !  "  At  the  very  instant  when  Klaus  looks  up,  a  dark, 
miserable  little  figure  drops  out  of  the  climbing  line,  falls 
back  heavily,  turning  over  as  it  goes,  and  plunges  head- 
long into  the  dark  foaming  water.  No  boat  is  near  ;  and 
besides,  they  can't  see  anything  —  and  it  is  so  bitterly  cold 
—  the  other  men  up  there  climb  on,  more  quietly,  more 
hurriedly.  Klaus  Baas,  pale  and  freezing,  sits  there  on 
the  bulwark,  his  legs  under  the  tarpaulin,  thinking.  Who 
can  he  have  been,  that  man  that  fell  down  there,  floating 
along  lifeless  now  in  the  dirty,  icy  water,  like  a  piece  of 
wreckage,  driven  against  the  sides  of  ships,  torn  by  their 
whirling  screws  —  perhaps  he  was  a  little  shoemaker  from 
some  village  who  grew  discontented  with  what  he  was 
making  and  came  to  Hamburg ;  or  perhaps  he  was  a 
little  clerk  from  some  little  town  who  got  out  of  work. 
They  were  waiting  at  home  now  for  news  about  some  good 
position,  and  what  they  would  get  would  be  tlie  notice  of 
his  death.    What  a  powerful  steamer  that  is,  coming  along 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  113 

slowly  and  majestically  out  of  the  Grasbrook  harbor,  with 
two  tugs,  straining  on  their  cables,  running  along  like 
terriers  in  front  of  it.  She  glides  out  slowly  into  the 
misty  channel,  and  the  tugs  cast  off.  The  giant  ship,  with 
a  mighty  roar,  demands  the  right  of  way.  What  flag  is 
that  at  her  foremast?  It  is  still  too  dark  to  see,  and  the 
rain  makes  it  droop  down  heavily.  Up  above  men  are 
standing  tliick  along  the  railing,  with  heads  bent  forward, 
staring  silently  at  the  rows  of  lights  on  the  shore,  that  are 
getting  paler  as  dawn  comes,  and  at  the  houses  and  towers, 
vanishing  slowly  in  the  dark  misty  rain.  Now  the  flag 
blows  out  a  little  —  it  is  the  star-spangled  banner,  of  course. 
A  little  steamer  passes  them,  going  faster  and  closer  than 
it  has  any  business  to ;  the  swell  it  makes  splashes  heavily 
over  the  edge  of  the  barge,  and  its  steam  spreads  out  like 
a  cloud  in  front  of  them,  so  that  they  cannot  see  anything 
at  all.  Peter  Soot,  irritated,  makes  his  second  speech  for 
the  day  :  "  Damned  old  smoker  !  "  he  says.  And  so  the 
daylight  gradually  comes.  The  whole  harbor  is  dripping 
and  full  of  mist ;  all  day  long  the  rain  drips  and  trickles 
from  poles  and  masts  and  spars,  from  smoke-stacks  and 
bulwarks  and  planks  and  pontoons,  until  finally  evening 
comes.  Then  it  is  time  to  stop  work.  And  soon  Klaus 
is  standing  in  the  dark,  thick  crowd  of  stevedores  and 
dockyard  men  who  are  crowding  by  hundreds  up  the  gang- 
ways of  the  little  ferry-boats,  wet  and  exhausted  and  silent. 
And  then  he  trots  off  toward  home. 

But  in  spite  of  the  gloom  and  darkness,  the  boy's  soul 
is  bright  and  warm.  How  bright  and  warm  and  beauti- 
ful !  Even  through  such  a  gloomy,  raw  autumn  day  as 
this,  the  beautiful  dream  of  a  happy  future  glows.  Per- 
haps the  stranger  will  be  sitting  by  the  fire  when  he  gets 
home  to-night;  perhaps  Hanna  will  have  a  gold  chain 
around  her  neck,  and  little  Fritz,  who  is  so  fond  of  ma- 
chinery, will  be  playing  with  a  little  steam-engine  —  just 
hear  how  it  runs  and  hums  !  —  and  his  mother,  cheerful 
and  happy  at  last,  is  petting  the  children  —  and  then  at 
last  he  will  confess  that  he  doesn't  want  to  be  a  store- 
keeper at  all,  but  a  real  merchant,  with  an  office.     And 


114  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

how  he  will  work  then !  He  will  work  harder  than  any- 
one ever  did  before  —  and  will  ship  his  goods  all  over  the 
world. 

So,  in  just  the  same  way  noble  old  races  used  to  make 
for  themselves  —  and  still  do  make  —  gods  that  are  noth- 
ing but  idealized  pictures  of  their  loftier  thoughts,  and  of 
the  life  that  is  unconsciously  developing  in  them,  just  so 
did  this  child  of  a  noble  old  race  dream  his  dreams ,  he 
thought  that  he  saw  a  personality  and  a  power,  beyond 
and  outside  himself,  that  was  to  bring  good  luck  and 
great  fortune  to  him  and  to  his  family.  He  did  not 
realize  that  it  was  in  himself  that  this  power  and  person- 
ality were  developing.  His  dreams  were  only  stretches 
of  his  imagination,  but  they  showed  a  power  of  thinking 
ahead  and  of  planning  out  the  future  that  belongs  to  a 
vigorous  life  and  a  powerful  life'  s  work.  They  were 
nothing  but  dreams ;  but  at  least  their  aim  was  not  mere 
comfort  in  life,  nor  worldly  fame ;  they  were  dreams  of  a 
broad,  active  life,  and  of  stout  service  to  the  people  he 
loved. 


CHAPTER  IX 

At  dusk  one  raw  autumn  afternoon  they  were  pushing 
their  way  along  by  the  warehouses  on  the  Kleiner  Gras- 
brook,  to  carry  some  freight  over  to  the  Grasbrook  harbor. 
The  gusty  west  wind  and  the  constant  passing  of  tugs  and 
ferry-boats  had  made  the  water  so  rough  that  it  foamed 
and  splashed  as  though  it  were  full  of  jumping  fishes.  A 
drizzling  rain  beat  in  their  faces.  For  a  while  they  kept 
close  to  the  piers  ;  but  after  a  time  they  had  to  turn  out 
into  the  main  channel  to  pass  a  boat  from  the  Oberland, 
or  upper  part  of  the  river.  Just  then  a  larger  steamer 
that  was  coming  down  toward  them  had  to  turn  over 
toward  their  side.  They  couldn't  get  to  the  end  of  the 
Oberland  boat ;  it  stretched  out  endlessly  on  the  larboard. 
The  steamer  came  nearer  —  it  came  too  near  —  it  crushed 
the  little  barge  against  the  Oberland  boat  and  squeezed  it 
down  into  the  green,  splashing  water. 

Klaus  Baas  saw  Peter  Soot,  taciturn  as  ever,  make  one 
long  jump  toward  the  Oberland  boat's  railing.  He  saw 
iron  walls,  bales  of  goods  sliding  down,  and  water  foaming 
up ;  then  down  he  sank  into  the  whirl.  He  struck  out 
with  both  hands  and  feet,  and  came  up  again  unhurt. 
He  got  hold  of  a  boat-hook  held  out  to  him  and  clambered 
up  on  the  Oberland  boat's  deck.  Standing  there  on  a 
tarpaulin,  he  spat,  shook  himself,  and  dashed  the  water 
out  of  his  eyes  and  mouth.  A  voice  said  calmly,  "Now 
you'd  better  run  home  to  mama  ;  "  some  one  else  laughed, 
good-humoredly,  and  said,  "  It's  Elias  Regenworm  him- 
self !  "  Peter  Soot  was  standing  at  the  railing  staring 
down  into  the  bubbling  water,  watching  for  some  trace  of 
the  barge.  The  captain's  wife  stood  there  with  her  legs 
apart  and  her  arms  akimbo,  too  astounded  to  speak. 

115 


116  KLAUS   KINRICH  BAAS 

Klaus  shook  himself  vigorously,  taking  it  all  in  through 
his  blinking  eyes;  then  he  looked  around  for  a  place 
where  he  could  climb  up  the  piling,  started  off  suddenly, 
climbed  up,  and  set  out  straight  for  home. 

He  forgot  that  he  was  wet  and  shivering  with  cold ;  he 
scolded  at  the  steamer,  at  Peter  Soot,. at  the  rascals  that 
had  laughed  at  him,  at  the  captain's  wife,  at  the  bad  taste 
of  the  water,  and  at  the  whole  harbor.  Not  even  ten 
horses  could  ever  drag  him  down  there  again  !  Hadn't 
he  got  the  ninety  marks  scratched  together  and  handed 
over  long  ago  ?  And  he  had  laid  in  a  new  suit  and  new 
shoes,  too  !  What  was  he  doing  there  still  ?  That  might 
have  ended  pretty  badly  !  Heaven  save  us  !  That  damned 
water ! 

Shivering  and  scolding,  he  got  home,  told  what  had 
happened  to  him,  and  said  he  was  done  with  it.  His 
mother  said  curtly,  "  You're  always  getting  into  a  mess, 
like  all  the  Baases.  Hurry  into  bed  ! "  And  she  bent 
over  her  work  again. 

The  next  afternoon  he  said  that  he  wanted  to  look 
around  for  some  better  kind  of  work.  He  put  on  his 
new  suit,  combed  his  hair  wet  and  slick  as  usual,  and  had 
Hanna  take  a  good  long  look  at  him.  Then,  walking  a 
little  stiffly,  out  of  consideration  for  his  new  suit  and  his 
digniiied  new  shoes,  he  went  down  toward  the  harbor, 
where  he  had  noticed  several  offices  near  the  Dovenfleet. 
He  had  a  hazy  idea  that  he  could  get  a  place  of  some  sort 
as  messenger  boy,  packer,  apprentice,  or  something,  that 
would  give  him  some  pay  to  begin  with,  as  well  as  a 
chance  to  work  up  gradually  into  a  better  place. 

He  went  timidly  into  the  first  office,  a  bare  little  room 
where  three  or  four  young  men  were  sitting  writing  at  a 
long  broad  table  under  the  window.  An  elderly  man 
wlio  was  going  through  the  room  came  up  to  him,  asked 
coldly  what  he  wanted,  and  said  shortly,  "  We  have  no 
opening." 

Somewhat  depressed,  he  went  into  the  next  house, 
climbed  some  dusty  old  stairs,  and  went  cautiously  into 
a  low,  badly  lighted  room,  where  a  dozen  young  people 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  117 

were  sitting  bent  over  their  work.  A  big,  solid,  deter- 
mined looking  man,  who  saw  him  from  a  room  at  the  side, 
came  out  and  said,  "What  do  you  want?  Have  you 
references  ?  What  does  your  father  do  ?  What  have 
j^ou  been  doing  since  Easter  ?  I  haven't  any  work  for 
you."  Klaus  Baas  was  going  to  say  something  more,  but 
the  man  had  turned  his  back  to  him  already.  And  that 
was  the  way  it  was  in  the  third  office  and  in  the  fourth. 

He  gave  it  up  for  that  day,  as  it  was  getting  toward 
evening.  He  strolled  along  the  harbor,  and  came  to  the 
Landungs-Briicke  in  St.  Pauli,  where  David  Strasse 
begins.  The  weather,  that  had  been  so  wet  and  gloomy 
for  weeks,  had  changed;  it  was  a  beautiful  breezy  autumn 
evening.  Stretching  himself,  he  went  on  cheerfully 
through  the  stream  of  men  coming  up,  as  he  was,  from 
the  harbor.  He  was  glad  the  weatlier  was  good,  glad 
that  his  clothes  were  new,  glad  that  he  had  his  hard 
work  behind  him.     And  he  looked  around  at  everything. 

At  the  corner  of  David  Strasse  and  Spielbudenplatz 
an  itinerant  bookseller  had  spread  out  his  wares  on  a  long 
Scotch  wheelbarrow.  His  hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  he 
was  strolling  up  and  down  before  it.  Two  workmen,  one 
old  and  one  young,  were  standing  there,  their  heads  bent 
over  a  book.  Klaus  stopped  and  looked  toward  the  books, 
thinking  that  he  would  like  to  rummage  through  them 
himself.  And  wliy  shouldn't  he?  He  had  five  marks  in 
his  pocket  —  money  that  he  had  earned  himself.  Hadn't 
he  worked  every  day  for  eight  months,  without  ever 
spending  a  penny  on  himself?  Wasn't  he  sixteen  years 
old?  Couldn't  he  do  anything  for  himself?  Pick  out  a 
book,  for  instance,  and  buy  it,  and  read  it,  as  comfortably 
as  you  please  ? 

He  went  a  little  nearer,  conscious  of  having  a  little 
ready  money.  With  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  he  looked 
down  at  the  titles  of  the  books.  There  was  one  thick  one: 
"Stanley.  In  Darkest  Africa."  On  the  cover  there  was  a 
long  thin  row  of  little  black  men,  wandering  through  an 
endless  grassy  plain,  with  gigantic  forests  in  the  distance. 
That  would  be  just  the  book  for  him.      What  a  life,  to 


118  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

wander  like  that  through  a  foreign  land  !  And  if  a 
person  couldn't  do  it  himself,  at  least  not  yet  —  then  at 
least  reading  such  a  book  wouldn't  make  a  person  any- 
stupider  !  It  was  only  a  mark.  He  drew  his  purse  out 
and  said  soberly,  "  That  book  there  !  " 

The  dealer,  an  elderly  man  with  a  broad  face  and  an 
Lin  tidy  gray  beard,  who  looked  as  if  he  drank,  looked  up 
at  the  tall  boy  and  handed  him  the  book,  saying,  "  There 
now  !     A  countryman  of  mine,  and  a  good  sort,  too  !  " 

Klaus  Baas  got  red,  and  said  hesitatingl}^,  though  with 
dignity,  "How  do  you  know  that?  " 

The  old  man  struck  his  breast  and  said  loftily^ 
"  Wha-at  ?  How  do  I  know  ?  I  left  the  Tondern  semi- 
nary with  the  grade  of  'good'  !  What  do  you  think  of 
that  ?  I  was  a  teacher  in  Hohendamm  for  ten  years ! 
You're  from  the  same  part  of  the  country  ;  the  way  you 
talk  betrays  you  !  " 

Klaus  Baas  thought  it  might  be  indiscreet  to  ask  the 
man  how  he  had  got  from  Hohendamm,  the  quiet  little 
village  on  the  Elbe,  to  the  Spielbudenplatz  in  St.  Pauli. 
Somewhat  reservedly,  he  said,  "I  am  one  of  the  Baases." 
When  the  man  asked  more  questions,  Klaus  told  him 
where  he  had  just  come  from  and  what  he  wanted  to  do. 

"  Well,  now,"  said  the  dealer,  "  are  you  pretty  good  at 
sentences  ?  That's  what  it  all  depends  on !  I  was  the 
best  scholar  at  the  seminary  —  first  in  drinking  and  in 
sentences !  Do  you  believe  it  ?  If  you  don't,  just  look 
at  this  book  !  Can  you  see  ?  '  The  Logical  Construction 
of  Sentences,  with  Examples,' — here's  the  author's  name 
—  do  you  see  who  it  is  ?  Dierck  Vogt,  teacher  at  Hohen- 
damm "  —  he  struck  his  breast  again.  "  If  you  want  me 
to,"  he  said,  "  Dierck  Vogt  would  do  anything  for  a  fellow- 
countryman —  anything!  Why,  he'd  share  his  bed  and 
board  with  him  !  Stay  a  little  longer,  fellow-country- 
man —  I'm  a  lonely  man  !  " 

This  new  acquaintance  was  interesting,  of  course ;  but 
he  wasn't  quite  good  enough  for  Klaus.  He  stayed,  but  he 
stood  a  little  to  one  side.  A  troop  of  factory  girls  came 
chattering  home  from  their  work  ;  sailors  went  past,  their 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  119 

bauds  in  their  pockets,  short  pipes  in  their  mouths.  Here 
and  there  in  twos  and  threes  came  country  people,  looking 
around  curiously  ;  there  went  two  street  women.  A  groom 
from  Holstein,  with  a  halter  thrown  over  his  shoulder, 
looked  after  them.  Then  came  a  shop-boy  out  of  work  ;  a 
loafer ;  a  little  crowd  of  women  going  to  the  store  — 
sickly  people,  grown  old  too  soon.  And  all  the  while 
there  was  an  endless  stream  of  workmen  coming  up  from 
the  harbor. 

Now  and  then  one  of  the  passers-by  stopped,  looked 
over  the  cart,  took  up  a  book,  and  either  bought  it  or 
laid  it  down  again.  Just  at  this  time  people  were  grow- 
ing more  clear-eyed  and  sober,  because  of  the  extension 
and  growth  of  industry  which  was  throwing  them  together 
more  closely  and  bringing  them  into  a  harder  sort  of 
reality.  Most  of  the  buyers  hunted  out  wild  tales,  some 
even  dissolute  ones  ;  but  many  a  one  reached  seriously 
for  one  of  the  interesting  new  pamphlets  that  tore  down 
old  ideas  or  set  up  new  ones.  Several  times,  when  the 
customer  seemed  to  be  dubious  as  to  the  value  of  a  book, 
the  old  drunkard  struck  his  dirty  old  coat  again  —  its 
breast  pocket  was  stuffed  with  papers  —  saying,  "  I  only 
buy  things  I  know  about,  gentlemen !  "  Or  he  would  say 
good-humoredly,  "An  old  teacher  like  me  must  know 
about  that."  Several  buyers  knew  him  ;  they  called  him 
"  persetter,"  that  honored  old  teacher's  name,  into  which 
the  Low  German  villagers  have  corrupted  "preceptor." 
They  listened  gravely  to  his  opinion.  When  there  were 
no  customers,  he  talked  to  Klaus  Baas,  who  was  standing 
by  the  wall,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  apparently  half  un- 
willing to  be  there.  Li  reality,  however,  after  going 
around  so  absolutely  dumb  with  Peter  Soot,  he  took  great 
interest  in  listening'  to  the  old  drunkard's  boasts  about 
his  seminary  and  his  teaching  and  about  what  was  in  this 
or  that  book. 

When  the  stream  of  workmen  had  stopped,  the  dealer 
asked  his  young  fellow-countryman  to  help  him  pack  up 
the  books  and  to  take  supper  with  him.  Klaus  helped 
him  pile  up  the  books  and  then  walked  along,  a  little  way 


120  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

off  from  the  cart,  so  that  no  one  would  think  he  belonged 
to  it.  The  old  man  turned  into  the  Silbersack  and  went 
into  a  courtyard,  where  they  took  out  the  books  and  carried 
them  into  a  little  room  on  the  ground  floor. 

Then  they  went  back  to  the  Spielbudenplatz,  and  turned 
into  a  little  inn  on  Wilhelmine  Strasse,  where  all  sorts  of 
artists  and  actors  used  to  go  —  perhaps  they  still  do.  As 
the  theatres  were  not  open  yet,  guests  were  still  eating 
and  chatting  at  the  little  tables. 

The  old  teacher  went  straight  to  a  corner  table  where 
two  men  of  his  own  age,  in  passably  good  black  coats, 
were  sitting.  He  introduced  Klaus  as  his  fellow-coun- 
tryman, and  ordered  supper. 

Klaus  Baas  had  a  very  distinct  feeling  that  all  these 
people  were  absolutely  alien  to  him,  and  that  his  mother 
would  sum  them  all  up,  after  a  very  short  examination, 
as  riffraff  and  a  set  of  fools ;  but  after  his  long  dumb 
months  of  work  he  hungered  for  life  and  talk.  He  looked 
around  the  smoky  room  with  curiosity.  Eating  eagerly, 
they  told  with  vigorous  gestures  of  their  travels,  com- 
pared cities  from  Budapest  to  Stockholm,  passed  judg- 
ment on  this  or  that  artistic  performance,  and  even  gave 
a  short  representation  of  it,  with  pompous  words  and  ges- 
tures. Klaus  soon  found  out  what  the  three  who  were 
sitting  at  their  table  did.  One,  a  little  fat,  beardless  fellow, 
got  his  living  by  singing  or  declaiming  comic  pieces  ;  the 
second,  a  lank  yellow  man  with  long  black  hair,  was  the 
first  violin  in  a  choral  society ;  the  third,  a  dried-up  little 
man  with  a  three-cornered  face,  like  a  cat's,  had  once 
been  a  waiter,  and  was  now  a  juggler.  The  bookseller 
was  really  the  head  of  the  little  table,  even  though  he 
could  not  boast  of  any  such  special  accomplishments,  for 
he  made  reflective  little  comments,  with  the  air  of  a  great 
sage,  on  everything  that  was  said. 

When  supper  was  over,  a  huge  bowl  of  punch  appeared, 
amid  expressions  of  joy  from  the  whole  room.  Punch 
glasses  were  handed  round.  The  first  violin  got  up, 
rapped  on  his  glass  for  silence,  buttoned  up  his  shiny  black 
coat,  and  stuck  three  fingers  between  the  buttons  on  his 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  121 

chest.  Then  he  looked  around  suddenly  with  one  great 
soulful  gesture,  forced  the  rising  tide  of  emotion  back 
hastily  with  a  short  shake  of  his  black  mane,  and  spoke. 
He  said  that  Danielo  Danako,  the  world-renowned  comic 
reciter,  sitting  here  near  him,  was  sixt}^  years  old  to-day  ! 
He  praised  Danielo's  art,  his  play  of  expression,  that  liad 
made  so  many  a  stomach  shake  with  mirth  on  both  sides 
of  the  ocean,  and  had  called  out  so  many  tears  of  inno- 
cent merriment.  He  praised  Danielo's  inner  nature,  that 
showed  itself  in  suppers  he  had  given,  and  in  touching 
confidences  over  a  bottle  of  wine  to  many,  of  whom  he, 
the  speaker,  had  been  one.  And  if  he  was  proud  of  any- 
thing in  this  world  —  and  there  were  many  things  of  which 
he  was  proud  —  it  was  that  this  man  had  honored  him  with 
his  friendship.  And  holding  his  glass  out  stifHy  to  the 
comedian,  he  wound  up,  "  My  heart's  brother,  brother  of 
my  heart ! " 

The  more  the  praises  rained  down  upon  him,  the  more 
the  comedian  had  shrunk  into  himself.  Now  he  sat  there, 
his  head  sunk  on  his  breast,  the  tears  rolling  over  his  shiny 
black  waistcoat.  He  wanted  to  reply  ;  but  it  seemed  that 
he  could  not  speak  extemporaneously,  in  spite  of  having 
such  a  gift  for  declamation ;  and  he  was  half  drunk,  too. 
He  laid  his  hand  benignly  on  Klaus  Baas's  mole-colored 
head  and  said,  amid  his  tears,  "  This  young  man,  who  is  a 
good  friend  of  mine,  will  reply  in  my  place." 

A  hot  shudder  ran  over  Klaus  Baas ;  he  drew  his  head 
out  cautiously  from  under  the  old  man's  hand,  reached  for 
his  Stanley,  and  hurried  out  amid  general  confusion. 

What  a  thing  to  have  happen  to  you !  What  queer 
people  there  were  in  this  world !  Suppose  that  his  mother 
got  to  know  that  he  had  been  sitting  around  with  these 
people  !  Or  even  that  he  had  been  in  St.  Pauli !  But 
it  certainly  had  been  terrifically  interesting  !  and  he  still 
wanted  to  look  around  a  little  more  that  evening.  Yes, 
indeed;  and  why  not?  After  all  tlnit  hard  work!  He 
was  sixteen  years  old,  and  he  had  never  seen  St.  Pauli 
yet! 

So  he  strolled  along,  his  book  under  his  arm,  with  the 


122  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

tlirong  of  men.  It  was  quite  dark  by  this  time.  There 
were  some  English  sailors  —  how  they  straddled  along  in 
their  wide  trousers.  What  an  impudent  girl  that  was! 
Why,  she  looked  at  him  as  if  she  knew  him  and  wanted 
to  speak  to  him.  How  full  that  inn  was !  Everybody 
laughing  and  talking !  How  restrained  and  shut  in  it 
made  his  life  seem  !  Do  you  suppose  that  any  one  of  all 
those  people  had  lost  a  sister  or  a  father,  or  had  a  severe, 
silent  mother,  or  knew  anything  about  grief  or  need  ?  And 
over  there  there  was  a  great  show  :  "  Negro  Dances  ! 
Ladies  and  Gentlemen !  Twenty  wild  women  from  Da- 
homey !  Positively  their  first  appearance  !  "  Oh,  what  a 
life  it  was  ! 

After  a  while  he  felt  like  going  into  a  tavern.  He  sat 
down  in  one  corner,  ordered  a  glass  of  beer,  and  drank  a 
little.  As  he  was  looking  around  him,  his  glance  fell  on 
his  Stanley.  He  opened  it,  and  soon  forgot  everything 
around  him.  It  was  the  first  time  since  he  had  read 
"  Robinson  Crusoe,"  years  before,  that  he  had  had  time 
and  opportunity  to  read  a  connected  story.  Now  he  sat 
there  as  if  bewitched.  He  read  and  read.  The  life  and 
action  he  had  seen  around  him  was  still  alien  to  him,  but 
the  life  and  action  in  the  book  suited  him  exactly.  The 
guests  came  and  went.  A  crowd  of  young  clerks,  who 
took  a  table  beside  him,  joked  and  racketed.  Klaus,  still 
thinking,  looked  up  ;  it  struck  him  that  he  would  be 
better  off  hid  behind  them.  The  people,  seeing  him  sit- 
ting there  so  entirely  lost  in  himself,  and  seeing  how  young 
he  was,  thought  perhaps  that  he  was  the  host's  son,  and  let 
him  alone.  One  of  them,  however,  said  to  him  teasingly, 
'*  Sling  that  book  in  the  corner,  man !  Here's  where  the 
world  is  !  Here's  where  the  rafters  ring  ! "  Klaus  looked 
up,  with  an  embarrassed,  absent  smile,  and  read  on  undis- 
turbed for  a  long  while.  Then  a  pale  young  man  came 
in  and,  as  he  could  not  find  any  other  place,  sat  down  at 
Klaus's  table.  He  sat  in  silence  a  while,  and  then  asked 
whether  Klaus  knew  Hamburg  well. 

Then  Klaus  shut  his  book  and  answered.  He  asked 
the  stranger  questions,  too.     The  young  man,  who  was 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  123 

about  two  years  older  tluin  Klaus,  had  come  from  upper 
Silesia  to  hunt  work.  Klaus  couldn't  get  much  more  than 
that  out  of  him.  Klaus  asked  him  about  his  parents;  the 
man  spoke  of  them  as  calmly  as  one  speaks  of  strangers. 
Klaus  asked  him  about  his  brothers  and  sisters;  yes,  he 
had  brothers  and  sisters  —  several  —  a  good  many  —  and 
his  face  was  as  indifferent  as  if  he  had  been  talking  about 
the  cobblestones  in  the  street.  Klaus  asked  him  what  road 
he  had  taken  to  Hamburg,  and  through  what  cities  he  had 
come ;  he  didn't  know.  And  as  to  what  he  had  done  to 
find  work  here  —  well,  it  came  out  that  he  had  not  hunted 
for  it  like  a  good  hunting  dog  on  a  trail,  but  like  a  cur  fool- 
ing along  the  road.  That  was  the  way  he  had  got  to  St. 
Pauli  and  to  this  table,  where  now  he  sat  looking  down 
stupidly  into  his  glass  of  beer. 

Klaus  swelled  up  with  lofty  sympathy.  He  began  to 
swagger  and  boast,  as  if  he  knew  Hamburg  through  and 
through.  And  soon  they  went  out  to  show  the  young 
man  something  of  the  city. 

Klaus  and  his  new  acquaintance  strolled  through  the 
streets,  animated  by  the  evening  crowds.  It  was  new 
and  strange  to  Klaus,  too,  for  he  had  never  before  dared 
to  be  out  of  the  flat  at  night.  They  went  along  the  Stein- 
weg  and  the  Grosser  Burstah,  out  on  the  Alster. 

They  stood  for  a  good  while  in  the  clear,  fresh  night 
air  in  front  of  the  entrance  of  a  large  hotel  on  the  Jung- 
fernstieg,  where  some  festivity  was  going  on,  for  the  door- 
way was  beautifully  decorated,  and  voices  and  snatches  of 
gay  music  could  be  heard  now  and  then  when  the  inner 
doors  were  opened.  Carriages  were  waiting ;  now  and 
then  a  guest  or  two  came  out  and  either  walked  or  drove 
away.  Through  one  of  the  basement  windows  came  the 
rattle  and  clatter  of  the  kitchen. 

The  Silesian  went  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  street 
and  sat  down  there  on  a  bench,  looking  stupidly  around 
him  ;  he  had  lost  all  his  interest  in  Hamburg  already. 
Klaus  Baas  told  liim  that  he  wanted  to  see  if  an  old  family 
friend  of  his  wasn't  in  there ;  they  were  expecting  a  rich 
friend  from  South  America  to  visit  them.     He  went  across 


124  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

to  the  hotel  again  and  stood  staring,  open-mouthed,  at  the 
beautiful  picture  of  high  life,  which  he  had  never  had  the 
chance  to  see  before. 

While  he  was  still  standing  there,  the  inner  door  opened 
again,  and  two  girls,  accompanied  by  a  beautiful  and  stately 
mother,  came  out  and  stood  there  a  second  waiting  for  their 
carriage.  And  then  Klaus  saw  that  it  was  his  two  old 
acquaintances  !  It  was  they  !  How  beautiful  they  were 
in  their  short  white  dresses,  with  straight,  slender  legs, 
and  delicate  feet  in  shining  black  shoes  !  He  moved  back 
slowly  into  the  shadow  so  that  they  would  not  see  him. 
It  was  they  !  Grown  a  little  bigger,  and  very,  very  much 
more  beautiful !  Klaus  stood  there,  oppressed  by  a  gloomy 
feeling  :  what  a  distance  there  was  between  them  !  What 
am  I  in  comparison  with  them?  How  poor  I  am,  and  how 
far  away  from  them !  Then  the  carriage  came  and  took 
them  away.  "Oh  Lord  !  "  he  thought,  "now  they've  gone, 
and  I'll  never  see  them  again." 

Just  then  he  heard  a  low,  cheerful  voice  from  the  base- 
ment, "Say,  you,  call  your  pal  over  from  the  bench,  and 
then  come  here." 

The  Silesian,  sleepy  and  indifferent  as  he  was,  had 
smelled  out  something  already;  he  liad  got  up  remarkably 
fast  and  was  standing  there  beside  Klaus.  "  When  I  was 
a  young  fellow,"  the  cook  said,  "I  slept  at  Mother  Green's 
many  a  time  myself.  You  shall  have  a  dish  of  hot  soup." 
He  reached  for  the  dish  which  was  standing  on  the  white 
table  at  his  side. 

Then  Klaus  said  hastily  that  he  had  to  go  home,  and 
hurried  away. 

He  trotted  on  through  the  quiet  streets,  tliinking  over 
and  over,  "  Oh,  Lord,  if  only  some  good  luck  would  come! 
I've  got  to  see  to  it  that  I  get  into  some  counting  house  — 
I'm  going  to  work  just  as  hard  as  I  can  —  Oh,  Lord,  if 
only  some  good  luck  would  come  right  away  ! " 

He  found  his  mother  still  working,  though  it  was 
nearly  midnight.  He  told  her  that  lie  had  been  working 
in  an  office  where  the  errand  boy  hadn't  come  and  that 
his  work  had  lasted  into  the  night.     She  worked  on ,  her 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  125 

face  as  uncommunicative  as  ever,  and  did  not  answer. 
He  went  to  bed. 

The  first  thing  he  thought  of  when  he  woke  up  the 
next  morning  was  the  two  girls.  He  studied  over  how 
he  could  become  like  them,  and  again  it  seemed  as  if 
some  good  luck  or  other  had  simply  got  to  come.  He 
worked  himself  into  a  breathless  feeling  that  he  had  to 
wait  and  hope  for  some  great  stroke  of  good  luck.  See- 
ing his  Stanley  lying  there,  he  began  to  read  again,  but 
couldn't  get  interested  in  it.  He  told  his  mother  that  he 
was  to  go  to  the  office  again  toward  evening,  and  that  he 
had  hopes  of  being  taken  on  regularly  as  errand  boy. 
Then,  with  rather  a  bad  conscience,  he  and  Stanley 
marched  on  deeper  and  deeper  into  Africa.  Antje  Baas, 
sitting  behind  a  pile  of  blue  cloth,  looked  at  him  suspi- 
ciously now  and  then.  Once  toward  evening,  when  he 
happened  to  look  up,  he  caught  her  look  and  it  disquieted 
him.  He  laid  the  book  down  and  went  out  as  if  he  were 
going  to  work. 

When  he  got  outside,  it  seemed  to  him  too  late  to  go 
to  an  office  to  ask  for  work.  Perhaps  in  St.  Pauli  he 
might  come  across  that  great,  great  good  luck  !  Perhaps 
the  stranger  from  America  had  come  !  Perhaps,  even, 
he  wasn't  this  hard,  plain  woman's  son  at  all !  Perhaps 
he  would  find  a  place  to-morrow  in  a  good  office.  His 
conscience  was  pitifully  uncomfortable.  When  a  man  is 
in  this  mood,  Avhat  does  he  do?  Klaus  went  on  in  the 
same  way.  Soon  he  was  back  on  the  Spielbudenplatz 
again.  The  bright  active  life  there,  to  which  he  had  got 
a  little  more  accustomed,  made  him  cheerful  again,  and 
he  went  on  with  greater  assurance. 

He  had  stopped  before  the  first  music  hall,  and  was 
standing  there  considering  whether  he  should  venture  to 
go  in  for  a  while  ;  all  at  once  thei'e  in  front  of  him  stood 
his  mother !  He  was  horribly  frightened,  less  over  what 
was  going  to  happen  to  him  than  over  the  fact  that  she,  his 
mother,  was  standing  there  on  the  street  in  front  of  him, 
in  St.  Pauli,  at  night !  He  pulled  his  hands  out  of  his 
pockets  and  stepped  back,  the  soul  gone  out  of  his  face. 


126  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Slie  gave  him  a  vigorous  box  on  the  ear.  "  I'll  drive  the 
Baas  out  of  you !  "  she  said,  harshly.  "  You  shall  be  a 
farm-hand  !  " 

Klaus  ran  toward  home,  his  cheeks  flaming  with  a  heat 
that  did  not  come  merely  from  the  blow.  He  had  grown 
absolutely  sober  all  at  once ;  he  had  suddenly  become  a 
very  different  person.  His  punishment  was  altogether 
just !  He  was  a  lazybones,  a  loafer,  a  man  like  Jonni 
Dau,  a  liar  !  On  his  way  to  the  house  of  correction  I  It 
was  horrible,  horrible !  To  think  that  she  had  gone 
after  him,  and  had  trapped  him  !  He  had  known  well 
enough  himself  that  he  was  going  along  in  a  labyrinth, 
with  no  way  out !  It  was  horrible,  horrible !  His  ears 
boxed  on  the  street !  That  was  worse  than  the  tongs  ! 
He  could  still  see  how  astonished  a  young  girl  had  looked 
who  had  come  along  the  street  just  as  his  mother  had 
reached  out  for  him.  She  had  even  spoken  his  name  ! 
Baas  !  Baas  !  Distinctly,  too  !  Oh,  Lord  !  he  wouldn't 
dare  to  show  himself  in  St.  Pauli  for  seven  years  !  He 
would  have  to  change  his  features  and  wear  other  clothes  ! 
He  would  have  to  hide  himself  till  his  beard  came,  so  that 
no  one  would  recognize  him. 

He  went  through  the  Millerntor  in  great  leaps,  as  if 
murderers  were  chasing  him.  He  didn't  dare  look  around 
for  his  mother.  Would  she  strike  him  again  ?  That 
didn't  go  any  longer  ;  he  was  sixteen  !  Horrible  !  He 
was  to  be  a  farm-hand  !  Well,  he  didn't  deserve  anything 
better !  To-morrow  she  would  take  him  back  home  and 
bind  him  over  as  a  farm-hand  for  his  whole  life  !  That 
horrible  ride  on  the  train,  and  then  to  be  a  farm-hand ! 
What  should  he  do? 

For  one  second  he  thought  of  the  stranger  from  Amer- 
ica. But,  wonderful  to  relate,  this  stranger  left  him  now 
once  for  all.  That  idea  didn't  fit  in  any  longer.  It  was 
as  if  that  one  box  on  his  ears  had  smashed  the  whole 
golden  dream  into  little  bits !  There  wasn't  anything  in 
it !  And  that  woman,  who  had  boxed  his  ears,  was  his 
mother,  without  any  doubt.  Oh,  without  any  doubt  at 
all !     The   world   had    suddenly   got   gruesomely   sober. 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  127 

Work  was  the  thing,  just  work !  Oh,  if  those  two 
beautiful  girls  knew  that  he  had  been  fool  enough  to 
believe  in  a  miracle,  and  rascal  enough  to  loaf  around  St. 
Pauli  for  three  days  !  And  if  the  artist  knew  !  Where 
could  he  get  work  now?  Right  away?  He  must  begin 
to  hunt  at  once  !  But  where  ?  He  must  get  a  job  some- 
where, so  as  not  to  fall  into  his  mother's  hands!  Sup- 
pose he  were  to  go  to  the  artist's  now  ?  It  was  autumn, 
and  she  might  be  home  again. 

He  took  to  his  heels  and  ran  and  ran,  till  he  stood  breath- 
less in  her  room,  like  a  hunted  rat  that  has  found  a  hole. 

She  was  sitting  in  her  old  place,  still  putting  in  a  few 
touches  in  the  dusk  on  the  mantle  of  an  apostle.  Oppo- 
site her,  on  the  chair  which  the  beautiful  little  girl  used 
to  sit  on,  sat  an  old,  badly  dressed  man,  with  white  hair 
and  large,  ghostlike  eyes.  She  seemed  to  be  droning  alone 
in  pleasant  conversation  with  him.  She  did  not  look  up, 
but  said,  "  Wait  a  little."  Then,  after  a  while,  she  looked 
up  at  him  over  her  spectacles.  "  Is  it  you,  Klaus  ?  "  she 
said  ;  "  what  do  you  want?" 

Klaus  stammered  out  briefly  what  had  happened — his 
father's  death,  their  need  of  money,  his  trip  back  home, 
his  work  on  the  barge,  —  and  now  lie  did  not  know  what 
to  do  next. 

She  settled  herself  comfortably,  painted  away,  looked 
at  the  old  man,  and  painted  on.  "  Wash  the  brushes," 
she  said. 

He  washed  the  brushes,  giving  her  a  sidewise  look  now 
and  then.  He  began  to  breathe  a  little  more  slowly  and 
to  feel  a  little  relieved. 

After  a  while  she  said,  "  My  father  was  determined  that 
I  should  be  a  teacher  ;  I'd  have  painted  the  children's 
faces,  I  believe.  My  mother  was  more  reasonable.  She 
said,  ^  She  shall  be  what  she  is  able  to  be,  and  what  she 
wants  to  be !  '  And  so,  what  can  you  do,  and  what  do 
you  want  to  do?  " 

He  looked  at  her  miserably  and  stupidly.  "What  can 
I  do  and  what  do  I  want  to  do?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said  curtly;  "think  quick,  and  speak." 


128  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

He  was  silent.  In  his  anxiety,  the  tears  came  into  his 
eyes. 

"  Say  something  or  other !  "  she  said  threateningly. 
"  Out  with  it !  " 

"I  can't  do  it  on  mother's  account,"  he  said,  "or  else 
the  thing  I'd  like  to  do  most  is  to  go  around  the  world,  to 
Africa  first." 

He  had  thought  she  would  fall  off  her  chair,  but  she 
said  quite  composedly,  "That's  about  what  I  expected. 
What  do  you  want  to  go  for  —  to  preach  the  gospel?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "that's true  enough;  you  aren't  much 
for  that.     Write  a  book  about  your  travels?  " 

He  shook  his  head  again. 

"  Well,  then,  for  heaven's  sake,  tell  what  you  do  want 
—  just  to  take  a  trip  ?  " 

He  saw  that  he  had  to  come  out  with  it.  "  See  what's 
going  on  there,  and  bring  new  life  into  things,  and  manage 
them." 

She  leaned  back  farther  in  her  chair,  studied  the  old  man 
with  a  sort  of  grim  attention,  and  said,  "  You  might  just 
as  well  have  said  at  first  that  3'ou  want  to  be  a  merchant." 

"Yes," he  said  relieved,  "that's  what  I've  always  wanted. 
And  I've  been  trying  it  already,  but  they  won't  take  me 
because  I  was  on  the  barge  and  because  I  haven't  been  to 
the  high  school." 

She  painted  on.  Then  she  stopped,  dismissed  the  old 
man,  bustled  around  the  room  for  a  while,  then  went  out. 
She  came  back  in  an  enormously  broad  mantle,  with  a 
sort  of  old  felt  hat  on  her  gray  head.  The  brushes  were 
lying  on  the  board  arranged  in  the  old  prescribed  manner. 
"  Come  !  "  she  said. 

They  went  downstairs  and  turned  toward  the  harbor. 
He  followed,  several  steps  behind  her.  When  she  was 
asking  questions  about  his  parents,  brothers  and  sisters, 
his  schooling,  or  Peter  Soot,  he  trotted  along  a  step  or  two 
in  front  of  her  while  he  was  answering,  then  dropped  be- 
hind again.  They  went  across  the  Rodingsmarkt  to  the 
Dovenfleet,  climbed  up  several  flights  of  stairs  -in  an  old 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  129 

house,  and  stopped  before  a  lighted  glass  door  which  said, 
P.O.  Trim  born  &  Co.  After  they  had  caught  their  breath 
a  little,  ihey  went  in. 

Klaus's  dazed  eyes  saw  several  rooms  brightly  lighted 
by  gas,  which  showed  a  number  of  distinguished  looking 
3-oung  faces  turned  toM'ard  them,  a  lot  of  paper,  and 
large  books.  The  artist's  voice,  as  she  said  that  she 
Manted  to  speak  to  Herr  Trimborn,  sounded  far  away. 
When  she  vanished  he  felt  as  if  he  had  lost  every  shred  of 
protection  or  shelter.  He  stood  there  looking  down  at 
the  floor.  She  came  back  and  beckoned  to  him,  and  he 
followed  her  into  a  beautiful  room.  Looking  past  her 
broad  back,  he  saw  a  tall,  elderly  man,  very  well  dressed  in 
black,  who  said  to  him,  in  a  remarkably  self-possessed,  sober 
voice,  "Shut  the  door."  When  Klaus  had  shut  it,  the 
man  asked  him  short  definite  questions  about  his  parents, 
his  childhood,  his  schooling,  and  especially  about  the  last 
summer. 

The  precision  of  the  questions  did  good  to  Klaus's  dis- 
sipated spirit,  which  really  felt  the  need  of  discipline; 
their  downrightness  straightened  him  up;  the  calm,  cold 
eyes  made  cowardly  lies  and  gay  dreams  sink  awa3^  So 
he  answered  quietly  and  shortly;  he  was  breathless,  and  big 
tears  stood  in  his  eyes.  When  the  man  finally  asked 
whether  his  mother  could  support  him  for  three  years 
longer,  he  said  with  trembling  lips  and  heaving  breast,  with 
an  exultant  feeling  of  love  and  pride,  that  she  would  do  any- 
thing for  him,  even  work  all  night.  He  had  paid  the  debt 
to  Timmermann,  and  his  mother  had  all  the  work  now 
that  she  needed. 

The  merchant  was  silent  for  a  while.  Turning  to  the 
artist,  he  said,  "  You  have  known  him  for  a  long  time  ; 
you  have  seen  his  school  reports,  and  they  were  excellent, 
you  say?  And  you  say  he  writes  a  good  hand?"  The 
artist  nodded.  "And  you  think  that  a  firm  like  mine 
ought  to  do  a  particularly  good  deed  once  a  year?" 

She  nodded  twice.  "  I  will  be  responsible  for  him," 
she  said. 

The  merchant  smiled.     "For  what  amount  ?"  he  said 


130  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

good-naturedly.  He  gave  Klaus  another  good  long  look. 
Then  he  said,  "  Well,  then,  I  will  make  an  exception,  and 
will  try  this  young  man.  You  will  see  to  it  that  his 
clothes  aren't  too  different  from  those  the  other  young 
men  wear.  And  I  hope  you  will  get  some  pleasure  out  of 
your  recommendation,  Friiulein  Laura." 

And  with  that  they  were  dismissed. 

When  they  got  downstairs  again  the  artist  drew  along 
breath.  "That  went  off  well  enough  ! "'  she  murmured. 
"  Heaven  save  us !  To  think  that  such  people  can  never 
do  a  good  deed  without  putting  on  so  many  airs  about  it  ! 
It  goes  all  through  me  !  Well:  now  you  see  to  it,  young 
man,  that  you  make  something  of  yourself !  That's  one 
good  step — from  the  barge  into  P.  C.  Trimborn's  office. 
What  did  you  say  that  man's  name  was  ?  " 

"Peter  Soot,  Aunt  Laura." 


CHAPTER  X 

Antje  Baas  still  kept  up  the  habit  of  giving  even  the 
oldest  of  her  children  a  good  scrubbing  with  her  own 
hands  every  Sunday  morning,  and  on  special  occasions. 
She  did  it  with  such  vigor  and  thoroughness  that  when 
they  got  out  of  her  hands  they  had  the  air  of  being 
squeezed  together,  rounded  off,  and  they  absolutely  glis- 
tened. But  never  before  had  she  seized  any  of  her  children 
so  firmly,  or  kneaded  and  scrubbed  him  so  fiercely  as  she 
did  her  third  child  to-day — the  one  that  had  seemed  a 
suspicious  character  to  her  ever  since  the  day  he  was  born, 
and  particularly  so  after  what  had  happened  yesterday. 
Then  she  brushed  him  off,  scolded  him  vigorously,  threat- 
ened him  with  the  gallows  and  the  wheel,  and  sent  him 
ofe. 

Fifteen  minutes  later  Klaus  went  in  through  the  glass 
door.  Several  of  the  young  men  were  there  already, 
sitting  or  standing  around,  ready  to  get  to  work.  While 
they  were  looking  at  Klaus  curiously,  a  middle-aged  little 
man,  wearing  a  jacket  made  of  lasting,  came  out  of  the 
adjoining  room. 

Klaus  had  occasionally  seen  or  heard  strangers  intro- 
duce themselves  to  each  other.  So,  making  an  awkward 
little  bow,  he  said  distinctly,  "Klaus  Hinrich  Baas." 

A  long,  thin,  red-haired  fellow,  leaning  comfortably 
against  the  doorway,  said,  "  Quite  a  complete  firm  !  "  A 
light-haired,  distinguished  young  man  gave  him  a  cold, 
arrogant  look.     The  others  laughed. 

Klaus  got  even  redder  than  his  scrubbing  had  made 
him.  He  looked  around  helplessly  for  a  place,  and  the 
little  man  in  the  lasting  jacket  came  over  and  showed  him 
where  to  sit. 

131 


132  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Klaus  sat  there,  just  opposite  the  little  man's  high  desk, 
in  a  sort  of  anxious,  solemn  bliss.  With  bent  head  he 
worked  away  at  the  counting  which  the  little  man  had 
given  him  to  do.  He  spent  the  day  going  through  a  lot 
of  shares  of  stock  that  had  been  bundled  together  in  con- 
fusion, arranging  them  according  to  their  numbers,  and 
making  a  list  of  them.  He  soon  got  up  into  the  large 
numbers. 

Klaus  scarcely  ventured  to  look  away,  as  he  sat  there 
bent  over  his  work.  What  long  legs  and  arms  they  had ! 
What  magnihcent  trousers !  With  what  quiet  assurance 
they  sat  there,  or  got  up  and  went  back  and  forth !  Now 
and  then  one  of  them  asked  a  question,  or  some  one  came 
out  of  the  inner  room,  the  door  of  which  always  stood 
open,  to  give  some  directions.  Klaus  didn't  understand 
either  the  question  or  the  answer.  Several  times  he  heard 
behind  him  the  low,  wonderfully  calm,  clear  voice  that  he 
already  knew ;  then  they  all  looked  at  each  other,  and 
one  of  them  got  up  hastily  to  get  what  the  chief  wanted. 

Early  on  the  second  morning,  before  the  chief  had  come, 
things  were  more  animated.  They  began  to  initiate  him, 
as  they  called  it.  A  long  thin  fellow,  with  reddish  hair 
and  projecting  ears,  who  sat  opposite  him,  said  that  now 
they  were  going  to  find  out  what  he  could  make  the  worst 
mess  of.  First  one  of  them  shoved  a  letter  at  him  and 
showed  him  how  to  copy  and  register  it ;  then  another 
brought  a  mass  of  orders  for  him  to  enter  in  a  book  ;  then 
some  one  else  wanted  him  to  hunt  up  a  sample  in  the 
sample-book.  A  few  days  later  they  put  him  in  charge  of 
the  stamps.  Dumb  with  horror,  he  took  over  the  change 
and  the  stamps,  —  stamps  of  two,  three,  and  five  marks, 
that  he  hadn't  even  known  existed  !  And  at  the  end  of  the 
week  the  little  man,  whom  he  had  gradually  come  to  know 
was  the  procurist,  or  head  clerk,  told  him  that  after  this  it 
was  his  work  to  ask  every  stranger  that  came  into  the 
office  what  he  wanted. 

It  all  made  his  head  swim.  His  peasant  clumsiness  and 
ignorance  of  this  new  world  made  him  so  distrustful  of 
himself  and  of  everybody  else  that  he  fell  into  all  sorts  of 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  133 

queer  mistakes.  He  put  the  wrong  enclosures  into  letters ; 
he  gave  a  bank  messenger,  or  tirm  messenger,  things  that 
were  not  meant  for  him,  or  that  were  not  ready  ;  he  mixed 
up  names  and  firms.  All  this  caused  great  confusion,  and 
made  it  necessary  to  do  some  lively  running  and  hunting. 
One  caller,  who  wouldn't  give  Klaus  the  least  idea  of  what 
he  wanted,  but  whose  cleverness  and  assurance  made  him 
seem  imposing,  Klaus  let  pass  to  the  chief's  room ;  and 
then  he  had  the  pleasure  of  finding  out  that  the  fellow 
was  a  miserable  beggar.  And  when  a  young  girl,  who 
was  going  to  walk  straight  past  the  railing  into  the  chief's 
office,  came  in  one  day,  he  ordered  her  to  go  back,  and, 
sure  that  he  was  doing  his  duty,  he  was  vigorously 
demanding  that  she  tell  him  who  she  was,  when  he  heard 
the  chief  call  out  from  his  desk,  "  Is  that  you,  my  child?" 
And  she  went  by  Klaus  Baas  with  a  smile.  And  then  of 
course  the  procurist  had  to  throw  in  some  reproaches. 
After  such  mistakes,  he  felt  altogether  unfitted  for  this 
calling ;  he  even  thought  that  he  must  be  a  most  curious 
sort  of  person,  and  he  sat  there  depressed,  scarcely  even 
hearing  the  consoling  words  of  the  tall,  red-haired  clerk 
023posite  him  :  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  so  ?  You're  just  like 
an  ox  in  front  of  a  new  stable  door !  The  best  thing  you 
can  do.  Baas,  is  to  pretend  you're  dead." 

To  his  surprise,  however,  he  gradually  saw  that  they 
were  not  going  to  turn  him  off  on  account  of  his  mistakes  ; 
they  even  seemed  to  expect  them  from  the  youngest  ap- 
prentice ;  and  so  his  head  began  to  come  out  from  between 
his  shoulders,  as  a  hedgehog's  does  when  everything  is 
still.  He  looked  around  cautiously,  taking  in  this  peculiar 
little  community  into  which  he  had  stumbled. 

There  were  three  rooms  in  the  office.  In  the  back 
room,  the  big  double  doors  of  which  were  always  open, 
four  or  five  men  sat  around  a  long  table  covered  with 
different  kinds  of  goods.  A  procurist  was  in  charge  of 
this  room.  These  men  sometimes  sat  silent  and  serious, 
working  at  full  speed  for  days  at  a  time,  when  agents  of 
the  factories  came  to  try  to  sell  their  products,  or  when  a 
steamer  that  was  to  take  a  shipment  of  their  goods  to  the 


134  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

far  islands  was  scheduled  to  sail.  After  that  they  would 
work  on  more  comfortably  for  a  while,  writing  and  enter- 
ing their  accounts ;  now  and  then  they  got  pretty  lively, 
and  sometimes,  if  the  chief  didn't  happen  to  be  there,  they 
even  stirred  up  a  sort  of  mild  revolution. 

In  the  middle  room,  in  which  Klaus  sat,  still  holding 
his  head  rather  low,  four  men  worked  on  accounts.  The 
procurist  of  this  room,  whose  place  was  directly  opposite 
Klaus,  worked  away  tirelessly  and  punctiliously,  brooding 
over  numbers,  accounts,  notes,  and  insurance  rates  like  a 
hen  brooding  over  her  chicks.  Klaus  was  his  handy-man. 
He  did  each  thing  that  was  laid  out  for  him  as  well  as  he 
could,  and  then  went  on  to  the  next  thing,  often  without 
understanding  it  at  all.  On  Klaus's  left  worked  a  tall, 
slim,  light-haired  man,  with  a  well-shaped  head,  Karl 
Eschen.  He  was  a  year  or  two  older  than  Klaus.  He 
was  always  busy,  rather  silent,  and  always  serious.  Some- 
times he  would  stand  up  in  that  distinguished  way  of  his 
for  hours,  entering  figures  in  the  huge  ledger  in  front  of 
him,  as  carefully  as  if  he  were  engraving  on  steel.  If  one 
of  the  others  came  up  to  him  about  something  that  was 
wanted,  he  always  made  his  answer  as  plain  and  as  care- 
fully rounded  off  as  if  he  were  talking  to  a  foreigner ; 
then  he  bent  his  well-shaped  head  over  his  neat  accounts 
again.  Klaus  Baas  looked  up  to  him  in  silent  awe,  re- 
garding him  as  the  incarnation  of  business  ability,  which 
he  could  never  hope  to  reach  —  and  of  all  possible  distinc- 
tion, as  well. 

The  tall,  red-haired  fellow  opposite  him  was  nothing 
compared  to  Karl  Eschen.  He  had  a  very  pronounced 
tendency  to  ramble  off  and  get  at  things  that  had  nothing 
to  do  with  his  work.  At  one  minute  he  would  be  showing 
some  pretty  girl's  picture,  which  he  carried  in  the  breast 
pocket  of  his  long  black  coat ;  he  said  that  she  was  the 
sweetest  girl  his  eyes  had  ever  lighted  on,  and  that  he  was 
going  to  dance  with  her  next  Sunday  on  the  Sullberg. 
Or  else  out  of  the  same  pocket  —  which  was  made  unusually 
large  on  purpose  —  he  would  pull  a  little  book  of  poems, 
Goethe,  Heine,  or    Hebbel — he  was  going  to  give  it  to 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  135 

some  other  girl,  lie  said,  in  order  to  initiate  her  into  love 
and  poetry.  Then  ho  would  pull  out  a  long  fancy  box, 
which  held  a  collection  of  neckties  of  the  most  remark- 
able colors  and  shapes.  He  got  them  from  Clarkson  & 
Company,  in  London,  he  said,  and  was  offering  them  at 
cost  just  for  the  sake  of  improving  the  looks  of  the 
office.  But  what  he  liked  to  do  best  of  all  was  to  talk 
about  his  little  home  town  in  West  Holstein,  about  the 
pretty  girls  there,  who  were  all  his  friends,  about  his  "  old 
gentleman,"  the  town  doctor,  whose  only  child  he  was, 
and  about  the  wonderfully  beautiful  cemetery  there, 
and  the  grave  in  which  the  mother  of  one  of  our  great 
poets  was  buried.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  cemeteries, 
and  liked  to  talk  feelingly  about  Ohlsdorf,  where,  he 
said,  the  dead  were  taking  their  rest  under  the  trees  as 
if  they  had  just  finished  a  long,  hot  journey.  Klaus  Baas 
couldn't  get  over  listening  to  all  this  talk  with  ever 
fresh  admiration.  Karl  Eschen  didn't  listen  to  it.  The 
procurist  shook  his  head.  The  fourth  man  at  their  table 
said,  in  his  curt,  straightforward  way,  "You're  crazy." 

This  fourth  man,  who  was  two  years  older  than  Klaus, 
and  was  in  the  last  year  of  his  apprenticeship,  had  a  hgure 
as  short  and  concise  as  his  way  of  talking.  He  lived 
outside  of  Hamburg,  on  his  uncle's  farm.  The  only 
things  he  ever  talked  about,  when  he  did  open  his  mouth, 
were  his  boyhood  in  the  open  fields,  dangerous  exploits  at 
swimming,  burning  off  the  dikes  and  setting  fire  to  the 
heather,  falling  off  horses,  and  -such  things.  He  said  that 
life  in  Hamburg  was  no  life  at  all,  and  that  this  office 
had  no  right  whatever  to  exist;  it  was  dishonorable 
to  cheat  the  poor,  childlike  Lidians  with  all  sorts  of 
rubbish,  and  to  take  the  beautiful  natural  products  of 
their  country  away  from  them.  In  short,  all  Hamburg 
was  just  about  good  enough  to  set  on  fire.  Nobody 
had  a  right  to  live  but  the  farmer.  And  then  he  laughed, 
half  grimly,  half  good-humoredly. 

Li  the  anteroom,  tlie  chief  sat  at  his  desk  alone.  There 
was  another  desk  in  the  handsome  room,  which  was  not 
in   use    now ;    the    man    that  used  to  sit  at  it  had    gone 


136  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

to  the  islands  on  a  tour  of  inspection.  Usually  the  chief 
sat  there  in  silence,  absorbed  in  hard  work.  There  were 
other  days,  however,  when  he  issued  commands  from 
morning  till  evening;  first  he  wanted  this  or  that  brought 
to  him ;  then  he  wanted  former  contracts  to  compare 
with  the  new  ones  ;  now  old  or  late  reports  from  the 
manager  in  the  islands;  now  things  that  had  been  offered 
to  the  firm  by  the  manufacturing  companies.  Then 
every  one  in  the  office  became  alert ;  first  one  man,  then 
another,  jumped  up  to  take  in  what  the  chief  wanted. 

The  youngest  apprentice  had  tiresome,  solitary  work 
to  do,  and  the  day's  work  lasted  for  many  hours;  yet  it 
never  seemed  monotonous  to  the  boy  who  had  stared  out 
over  the  edge  of  the  barge  at  the  water  for  half  a  day  at 
a  time.  Almost  every  day  some  sort  of  excitement  broke 
up  the  quiet,  industrious  Avork  of  the  twelve  men.  And 
if  one  day  was  uneventful,  the  next  one  made  up  for  it. 
Perhaps  the  quartermaster,  a  big,  fine-looking  man, 
would  come  up  from  the  harbor  to  report  to  the  book- 
keeper of  the  back  room  about  the  storing  of  goods.  Or 
else  his  assistants,  active  young  fellows,  would  bring 
up  samples  of  foreign  goods  that  had  just  come  in,  in 
paper  bags,  or  in  sacks  thrown  over  their  shoulders. 
They  sat  down  on  the  table  and  pulled  their  knives  out 
of  the  sheath,  and  made  a  great  point  of  lowering  their 
voices,  so  as  to  show  that  they  were  used  to  talking  in  the 
midst  of  the  racket  of  derricks,  cranes,  and  whistles. 
Their  bright  sharp  eyes  looked  around  contemptuously  at 
all  this  writing  and  at  these  writing-folks.  Sometimes  an 
agent  would  bring  in  samples  from  his  factory —  good  prod- 
ucts, sometimes,  but  often  gay  rubbish  made  on  purpose  to 
send  to  the  natives.  The  agent  used  all  the  persuasiveness 
he  had,  as  he  offered  his  glass  balls,  huge  arrows  of  a 
glaring  yellow  to  stick  in  the  hair,  cheap  shiny  watches, 
little  musical  instruments,  and  what  they  called  neger 
wiirden,  or  long  staves  tipped  with  copper  —  a  sort  of 
staff  of  state.  It  did  not  surprise  any  one  by  this  time 
if  the  youngest  apprentice  looked  up,  or  if  he  made 
up  some   errand   for   himself   and   came    over  to  satisfy 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  137 

his  curiosity  by  looking  at  the  gay  stuff.  Perhaps 
an  old  employee,  burned  by  the  hot  sun  of  Brazil  or 
Eastern  Asia,  would  come  in  to  visit  the  office  again 
and  to  see  if  any  of  his  old  associates  happened  to  be 
there  still.  He  would  come  in,  bold  and  free,  and  ask 
all  sorts  of  questions,  surprised  that  there  were  so  many 
of  them  there  now.  In  his  day,  he  would  say,  they  had 
worked  a  good  deal  harder.  Then  the  men  in  the  mer- 
chandise room,  who  always  spoke  up  the  first  and  the 
loudest,  joked  back  at  him,  saying:  "In  your  day,  the 
shop  didn't  go  very  well,  did  it  ?  Well,  we've  got  it 
running  right  at  last."  Or  perhaps  some  agent  would 
come  in  to  make  a  purchase,  amounting  to  many  thousands, 
of  goods  brought  from  across  the  seas. 

Sometimes,  before  the  departure  of  a  steamer  by  which 
they  were  shipping  a  great  deal  of  merchandise,  and  for 
which  they  had  to  get  the  mail  ready  too,  they  wofked 
silently  for  days,  with  every  nerve  strained  to  the  utmost. 
Then  a  day  would  come  when,  from  early  morning  on,  a 
sort  of  wanton  joyousness  prevailed  all  through  the  office. 
And  when  the  chief  went  out  to  lunch,  or  to  the  Exchange, 
it  came  to  the  surface  at  once.  The  merchandise  people 
were  the  worst.  They  took  off  their  coats  and  dressed 
themselves  up  in  arm-rings,  leg-rings,  crowns,  hair-arrows, 
and  those  staves  of  state,  and  then  had  a  lively  scuffle 
across  their  table  ;  sometimes  their  bodies  were  all  bunched 
together  in  a  mass,  with  their  thin  legs  flapping  below  it, 
so  that  they  looked  like  a  big  spider  that  couldn't  find  any 
place  to  set  down  its  eight  or  ten  legs.  Then,  venturing 
out  to  the  door  of  the  middle  room,  they  talked  to  the  tall, 
thin  fellow,  saying  that  he  was  always  giving  away  poems 
and  flowers  and  kissing  girls'  hands,  without  ever  getting 
anything  back  ;  then  they  would  maintain  that  the  middle 
room  never  did  anything  but  useless  writing.  If  they 
couldn't  get  them  stirred  up  in  this  way,  they  would  roll 
a  jam  pot  across  the  floor,  and  hold  the  end  of  a  staff  under 
their  very  noses,  and  so  finally  get  even  the  more  sober 
middle  room  into  an  uproar.  The  tall,  red-haired  fellow, 
whom  they  called  Heini  Peters,  jumped  up  and  stood  in 


138  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

the  doorway,  his  long  coat  tails  flapping;  and  the  growl- 
ing little  heather  burner,  losing  his  calmness  and  forget- 
ting his  contempt  of  everything,  rolled  the  jam  pot  back 
among  their  opponents.  The  racket  lasted  so  long  that 
at  last  Karl  Eschen  would  say,  in  his  quiet,  decisive  way, 
"  That  is  enough  now ;  I  have  a  difficult  piece  of  work  on 
hand,  and  I  don't  want  to  make  any  mistakes  in  it  on  your 
account."  Then  they  gradually  grew  rational.  Klaus 
Baas  had  looked  on  at  the  tumult  in  silent  astonishment, 
still  far  too  uncertain  to  take  any  part  in  it,  and  much  too 
stiff  and  conscientious  to  waste  any  of  the  working  hours 
in  play.  "  What  calves  they  are !  "  he  thought,  secretly 
upholding  Karl  Eschen,  who  put  an  end  to  it  all. 

At  noon,  when  the  others  went  out  for  lunch,  he  kept 
watch  in  the  office  all  alone  for  half  an  hour,  sometimes 
for  an  hour.  He  strolled  around,  standing  at  the  window 
and  looking  down  into  the  street.  And  gradually,  as  al- 
ways happens  with  people  who  have  been  intimidated,  his 
shy  spirit  grew  bolder  again,  stirred,  and  rose,  and  began 
to  toy  with  its  imaginings.  And  those  nimble  imaginings, 
which  had  been  only  loosely  held  in  check,  began  to  beg 
for  a  little  dance ;  and  the  poor,  uncertain,  terrified 
youngster  let  himself  go  to  meet  them,  and  without  shame 
and  without  self-scorn,  let  himself  swing  around  with  them 
in  a  reckless  little  dance.  His  father  and  sister,  invisible, 
hovering  ghosts,  looked  in  through  the  window  at  him. 
Their  faces  were  shining ;  they  were  far  removed  from 
sorrow  and  care.  How  glad  they  were  to  see  him  stand- 
ing there,  well  dressed,  in  those  bright  rooms  ;  one  year 
more  —  then  he  would  be  standing  in  Eschen's  place, 
entering  great  sums  in  the  big  book,  each  in  its  proper 
place.  No  stranger  was  coming  to  lay  down  gold  and 
good  fortune  suddenly  on  the  brown  table  by  the  hearth ! 
The  stranger  was  not  needed  any  longer.  It  was  mucli 
better  to  go  out  oneself  into  foreign  lands,  to  the  islands, 
or  to  Eastei'n  Asia,  and  tliere,  by  means  of  hard  toil  and 
cleverness — oh,  extraordinary  cleverness!  —  and  by  some 
great  lucky  chance,  to  acquire  very  considerable  posses- 
sions.    And  tlien  to  come  back  !     Tanned  almost  black  I 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  139 

A  man,  a  fine  looking,  bearded  man.  And  his  mother  and 
the  children  would  be  standing  on  the  Landungs-Briicke, 
Suse  Garbens  with  them  !  He  went  into  the  chief's  hand- 
some office  and  walked  up  and  down  the  rug,  the  way  the 
chief  did,  slowly  and  deliberately ;  he  stood  by  the  writ- 
ing-table, as  the  chief  often  did,  and  went  over,  rather 
confusedly,  the  cares  a  chief  has  to  think  about.  And  so 
he  played  till  the  others  came  back ;  and  then  the  dance 
and  the  play  was  over.  The  shy,  depressed  youngster 
bent  his  mole-colored  head  again  over  his  figures,  which 
were  still  absolutely  meaningless  to  him. 

And  in  this  way  a  year  passed,  Klaus  working  on  with 
anxious  conscientiousness  and  faithful  industry.  Then 
one  clear,  breezy  autumn  day,  a  great  uproar  rose  in  the 
middle  room.  The  short,  taciturn  heather  burner,  who 
had  been  unusually  quarrelsome  for  several  days,  had  just 
celebrated  his  nineteenth  birthday.  This,  and  the  beauti- 
ful autumn  weather,  made  him  angry  and  talkative.  He 
claimed  that  it  was  immoral  to  spend  such  beautiful 
weather  sitting  still  in  a  room,  and  over  such  work  as 
theirs,  what  was  more.  All  Hamburg,  and  P.  C.  Trim- 
born's  with  it,  was  nothing  but  vileness  and  madness  !  Set 
it  on  fire  !  What  was  the  Exchange,  what  was  a  merchant, 
what  were  figures  ?  Nothing  but  stupid,  senseless  stuff  ! 
Now  a  peasant,  a  horse,  an  ox,  —  these  were  real  things. 

They  tried  to  quiet  him.  The  men  in  the  back  room 
said  he  had  better  come  and  help  them  for  a  few  days ; 
they  didn't  know  what  to  do  first ;  they  had  an  unusually 
large  shipment  to  get  off,  and  several  hundred  accounts  to 
get  ready.  He'd  never  learn  what  work  meant,  out  there 
in  the  middle  room. 

Heini  Peters  said  that  he  had  found  the  grave  of  a 
countrywoman  of  his  yesterday,  in  the  Ohlsdorf  cemetery  ; 
it  was  in  such  a  snug,  poetic  place,  too,  in  among  ash  trees 
and  alders  ;  it  was  wonderful !  He  ought  to  sit  there  be- 
side it  for  an  hour ;  then  he  would  forget  all  the  vexations 
of  his  life,  and  all  that  he  longed  for,  too. 

The  heather  burner  didn't  even  look  at  him ;  he  only 
said  curtly,  "  Crazy  !  " 


140  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

Karl  Eschen,  looking  up  from  his  work,  said,  in  his 
quiet,  earnest  way,  "  You  ought  to  keep  up  some  kind  of 
sport,  Hanssen,  to  offset  your  work.  You  had  better  join 
our  rowing  club ;  I'd  be  glad  to  take  you  with  me 
to-night." 

But  the  heather  burner  only  snarled. 

The  bookkeeper,  who  was  in  rather  a  bad  humor,  said, 
"  Work  is  the  best  thing  to  keep  foolish  thoughts  away." 

"Yes,"  said  Hanssen,  "but  what  kind  of  work?  Tell 
me  to  dig  out  a  spring  or  build  a  house,  or  find  an  ox  that 
has  run  away  !  Do  you  call  this  work?"  Getting  up,  he 
went  to  the  window  and  stood  looking  out  into  the  clear, 
beautiful  sunny  day.  Turning  around  suddenly,  he  said, 
"  Children,  I'm  going  I  I've  got  a  cousin  on  a  farm  in 
the  Argentine  Republic ;  in  two  weeks  I'll  be  on  my  way 
there ! "  At  that  instant  the  chief  came  in.  And  he 
asked  for  an  interview  on  the  spot.  When  he  came  out 
again,  he  said  tliat  he  was  to  leave  in  fourteen  days,  and 
that  the  chief  was  a  noble  man. 

The  procurist,  who  was  usually  friendly  and  good- 
humored  enough,  grew  even  more  irritable  than  he  had  al- 
ready been,  at  the  prospect  of  losing  a  good  assistant  so  soon. 
On  the  firm's  plantations  over  in  the  islands,  they  had  had 
a  serious  plague  of  rats.  In  the  search  for  something  that 
would  exterminate  them,  they  had  sent  over  some  poison 
months  before,  and  had  asked  to  have  a  dead  rat  sent  to 
them  so  that  they  could  see  how  the  poison  had  acted. 
The  dead  rat  had  come,  but  it  had  rotted  to  pieces.  The 
procurist  was  growling  about  this  now.  Finally  he  said 
that  in  copying  the  letter,  Klaus  Baas  had  left  out  the 
words  "  as  usual,"  so  that  the  directions  for  soldering  the 
rat  up  airtight,  as  was  usual  in  shipping  anything  perish- 
able, had  not  been  followed. 

Klaus  turned  pale,  thinking:  "There  it  is!  They've 
no  use  for  me!     Of  course  not !     No  use  for  me  !  " 

The  heather  burner,  happy  at  the  step  he  had  taken, 
said  consolingly  :  "  Oh,  leave  that  old  dead  rat  alone,  Herr 
Wallis  !  Just  look  out  of  the  window  !  What  beautiful 
weather ! "     Tall  Heini  Peters  drew  a  box  of    blue  silk 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  141 

handkerchiefs  out  of  his  drawer  and  displayed  them. 
Karl  Eschen,  not  troubling  himself  about  other  people's 
moods,  worked  on  in  his  careful,  yet  swift,  fashion  ;  but  he 
seemed  to  be  somewhat  friendlier  than  usual  to  the  bungler. 

Emboldened  by  Karl  Eschen's  friendliness,  Klaus  Baas 
raised  his  head,  and  said,  with  wild  eyes,  "You  are  just 
making  up  that  accusation,  and  you  know  it !  I  can't 
bother  the  chief  about  it,  and  so  I  just  have  to  take  the 
blame  for  it !  " 

The  procurist  said  nothing  more,  and  worked  on.  The 
others  tried  to  quiet  Klaus  —  "There,  there  —  not  so  hot. 
He  didn't  mean  it  that  way."  Karl  Eschen  shrugged  his 
shoulders  disapprovingly.  Klaus  Baas  sat  at  his  work 
with  thick  tears  in  his  eyes,  thinking,  "  Well,  it's  all  over 
now.  You're  incapable,  ridiculous  — and  now  they  treat 
you  dishonorably,  too." 

As  Klaus  was  going  down  the  stairs,  when  the  day's 
work  was  over,  he  suddenly  heard  Karl  Eschen  behind 
him,  speaking  to  him.  Klaus  stopped,  pleased  and  sur- 
prised, and  listened,  hanging  his  head.  "  I  just  wanted 
to  tell  you,"  Karl  Eschen  said,  "not  to  take  what  the  pro- 
curist said  too  much  to  heart.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  sit  still 
writing  down  figures  day  after  day,  year  in  and  year  out. 
Now  look,  Hans  is  right  in  a  way :  our  lives  were  meant 
naturally  to  roll  along  out  in  the  sunshine  and  the  rain, 
we  were  meant  to  wander  about  and  hunt  and  fish  and 
fight ;  and  instead  of  that,  our  lives  are  about  like  the 
pillars  in  the  railing  on  these-  stairs.  Now  and  then  our 
shackled  spirits  revolt,  and  that  gives  us  a  fit  of  rage 
against  our  work.  But  the  procurist  knows  very  well 
that  you  are  industrious  and  conscientious,  and  that  you 
have  a  good  idea  of  the  business,  and  will  make  a  good, 
reliable  merchant  some  day.     And  you  know  it,  too." 

Klaus  Baas  grew  red  with  happiness.  "  I  am  very  glad 
to  have  you  tell  me  that,"  he  said,  in  a  trembling  voice. 
"  You  are  so  capable  !  " 

"  Well,"  said  the  young  man,  indifferently,  and  yet  a 
little  flattered,  "  in  six  months  I  am  to  go  to  England.  If 
you  work  on  conscientiously,  I'll  propose  you  for  my  place. 


142  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

Heini  Peters  certainly  can't  have  it.  Then  there's  one 
other  thing  I  wanted  to  say  to  you.  You  heard  me  tell 
Hans  awhile  ago  that  he  ought  to  take  up  some  sport, 
and  you  know  I  invited  him  to  go  out  rowing  with  me. 
You  ought  to  think  of  doing  something  like  that,  too  ;  it 
would  keep  you  in  good  spirits.  You  had  better  not  join 
a  club,  for  that  would  be  too  expensive  for  j^ou ;  but  you 
ought  to  hire  a  boat  now  and  then  and  take  a  good  long 
row." 

Klaus  looked  down  and  said  hesitatingly,  "  But  when  I 
get  home,  I  have  to  help  with  the  housework,  and  help 
my  brothers  and  sisters  with  their  lessons.  And  I  have 
to  get  along  with  my  English,  too.  I  have  a  good  start 
with  my  stenography." 

"Well,"  Karl  Eschen  said  calmly,  "just  as  you  think 
best !  But  be  sure  you  learn  your  English  !  "  He  touched 
his  hat  and  went  on. 

As  Klaus,  happy  through  and  through,  was  going  on, 
he  heard  some  one  call  him  again.  Looking  back,  he  saw 
Heini  Peters  limping  along  behind  him,  with  his  long 
crooked  legs.  His  long  black  coat  was  blowing  out  in  the 
wind,  and  his  gay  necktie  was  waving.  "Well,"  he  said, 
"  so  Karl  Eschen  was  talking  to  you  !  You  can  be  proud 
of  that  !  He  belongs  to  an  old  Hamburg  merchant  family  ; 
that's  where  he  gets  his  gift  for  figures  and  ledgers  and 
carrying  on  a  business.  Do  you  know,  if  I  had  had  a 
chance  to  choose  a  profession  for  myself,  I'd  have  chosen 
to  be  the  sexton  in  the  city  I  was  born  in !  I'm  not  jok- 
ing !  The  present  sexton,  a  friend  of  mine,  lives  in  an 
awfully  pretty  old  house,  with  beautiful  lindens  around 
it ;  just  now  their  blossoms  are  covering  the  whole  place. 
Just  imagine  what  this  sunset  would  be  in  such  a  place  as 
that !  To  sit  there  with  a  volume  of  Goethe  or  Heine  in 
your  hand,  and  the  graves  of  your  forefathers  in  front  of 
you !  Charming,  I  tell  you  I  But  I  am  the  only  son  of  a 
prominent  physician,  and  so  I  couldn't  be  a  sexton  !  "  He 
talked  on  about  several  pretty  girls  at  home  who  had  in- 
vited him  to  take  a  walk  with  them  at  night  along  the 
dike,  and  said  that  he  expected  to  do  it  on  Saturday  or 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  143 

Sunday.  He  was  talking  away  at  full  speed  when  a  girl 
passed  them  ;  then  he  turned  back  ;  he  had  to  see,  he  said, 
where  that  beautiful  little  creature  lived. 

Klaus  Baas  felt  very  happy.  His  delighted  ears  kept 
hearing  the  deliberate,  pleasant  voice  of  that  distinguished 
young  man,  telling  him  that  he  had  ability,  and  was  in- 
dustrious, and  would  make  a  very  proper  sort  of  merchant 
some  day.  Heini  Peters  couldn't  be  compared  to  him  at 
all,  and  yet  it  was  pleasant  that  he  too,  a  doctor's  son,  had 
talked  to  him  like  a  comrade. 

Klaus's  heart  felt  lighter.  He  came  to  have  more  assur- 
ance, and  held  his  head  up  a  little.  He  didn't  stalk  along 
stiffly  any  longer,  keeping  close  to  the  walls  of  the  houses  ; 
he  left  the  houses,  and  balanced  himself  now  and  then  on 
the  curbstone,  and  stretched  his  neck  out  more  boldly. 
He  pressed  his  trousers  himself,  when  they  needed  it,  and 
bought  a  beautiful  blue  necktie  from  Heini  Peters.  Now 
and  then,  as  he  passed  a  young  girl,  he  let  his  eyes  meet 
hers.  On  the  barge,  and  during  the  first  year  in  the  office, 
he  had  had  a  feeling  of  restraint ;  but  now,  as  self-con- 
sciousness developed  in  him,  a  new  feeling  of  life  rose  in 
him,  a  desire  to  win  position  for  himself,  to  adorn  himself, 
to  know  that  some  one  of  the  young  things  passing  him  in 
fluttering  clothes  liked  him.  He  began  to  grow  taller, 
too ;  his  shoulders  became  broader,  and  his  features 
stronger.  His  nose  turned  into  a  genuine  bold  Baas 
nose  ;  the  pinching  that  Antje  Baas  had  begun  on  the  day 
he  was  ])aptized  and  had  kept' up  so  vigorously  ever  since 
had  not  done  any  good.  He  had  his  father's  good- 
humored,  sunny  eyes,  too,  but  they  had  a  more  earnest, 
sober  look.  The  strong,  almost  defiant  firmness  of  his 
mouth,  and  a  certain  stiffness  in  his  bearing,  he  got  from 
his  mother. 

The  new  life  that  came  creeping  softly  over  him  brought 
a  shy  pleasure  with  it,  a  not  unpleasant  restlessness.  In 
a  few  months,  however,  in  a  few  weeks,  even,  it  grew 
strong,  as  it  developed  in  his  good,  sound,  peasant  blood  ; 
by  and  by  it  was  powerful,  then  harsh,  finally  tempestu- 
ous.    He  stood  inquisitively  in  front  of  shop  windows 


144  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

where  pictures  of  women  were  shown,  and  speculated  over 
the  bearing  and  carriage  of  mature  women.  Sometimes, 
in  the  middle  of  the  night,  when  he  was  in  bed  asleep,  a 
vision  came  to  his  bedside,  enticing  him,  till  he  stretched 
out  his  hands  to  it  in  sleep  and  drew  it  down  to  him. 
Then,  the  next  morning,  coming  suddenly  to  himself,  he 
sat  up  in  bed,  sad  and  ashamed.  Once  or  twice  the  desire 
drove  him  so  hard  that  he  slipped  out  on  wet,  windy  even- 
ings to  Klefeker  Strasse,  and  let  himself  dream  that  he 
had  several  marks  in  his  pocket  and  could  go  and  take  a 
good  look  at  the  life  they  led  down  there,  if  he  wanted  to. 
But  there  he  stood,  i)i  the  sloppy  weather,  with  his  collar 
turned  up,  for  a  long  time,  without  going  down  the  street. 
The  vision  didn't  fit  in  with  his  mother  and  the  children ; 
it  didn't  fit  in  witli  P.  C.  Trimborn  and  Karl  Eschen ;  it 
was  really  the  same  sort  of  thing  as  the  two  days  he  had 
spent  before  in  St.  Pauli,  that  had  ended  in  such  contrition 
on  his  part.  Finally  he  thought  of  Suse  Garbens.  How 
dear  she  had  been  to  him  that  time  before  !  Surely  she 
still  remembered  him  !  And  he  had  thought  of  her  often 
and  often  —  in  fact,  whenever  any  other  pretty  face  had 
struck  his  fancy.  And  he  had  certainly  become  somebody 
in  the  meantime  !  He  wanted  to  write  to  her  !  The  dear, 
sweet,  pretty  thing  !  And  to  think  that  she  was  a  pastor's 
daughter  !  He  turned  his  collar  up  still  higher  and  walked 
up  and  down  in  the  wind  and  rain,  all  excited  over  this 
new  idea.  He  wanted  to  write  to  her !  He  certainly 
could  venture  to  write  now !  He  had  made  something  of 
himself  !  He  would  write  to  her,  and  forget  all  the  other 
girls  in  the  world. 

At  noon  the  next  day,  when  he  was  left  alone  in  the 
office,  he  sat  down  in  Karl  Eschen's  place  and  wrote  her 
a  beautiful  long  letter  on  a  large  sheet  of  the  firm's  paper. 
His  letter  came  from  the  very  heart  of  the  golden  dreams 
with  which  he  let  himself  play  in  the  noonday  solitude. 
He  told  her  that  his  mother  had  to  have  two  girls  now  to 
help  with  her  tailoring  business,  and  tliat  his  sister  Hanna 
was  probably  going  to  be  a  teacher.  He  told  her  that  he 
was  an  apprentice,  already  in  his  second  year,  with  a  promi- 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  145 

nent  firm ;  he  told  her  what  sort  of  families  the  other 
clerks  belonged  to,  and  said  tliat  the  very  best  one  of  them 
all  had  told  him  that  some  day  he  would  make  a  good 
merchant.  And  later  on,  he  said,  he  was  to  go  to  the  far 
East  for  his  firm. 

After  some  time  she  sent  him  a  friendly  answer.  She 
said  that  she  had  a  terrier  now  that  went  with  her  on  her 
walks.  It  couldn't  get  over  the  walls,  and  she  laughed 
till  she  nearly  died,  to  see  it  stumbling  along  behind 
through  the  rows  of  potato  plants.  Then  she  asked  him 
if  he  was  interested  in  girls  now,  and  told  him  that  her 
father  still  read  the  papers  as  long  as  ever,  and  got  stupid 
over  it,  and  that  she  couldn't  get  a  single  rational  word 
out  of  her  mother.  She  added  that  the  letters  came  only 
once  a  day,  and  that  it  was  her  work  to  take  the  bag 
from  the  letter-carrier,  so  that  he  could  write  whatever 
he  liked. 

Then  they  began  to  write  regularly  once  a  week.  Her 
letters  were  cordial,  telling  of  all  sorts  of  trivialities  of 
everyday  life.  His  were  rather  large  and  assured  in  tone, 
and  full  of  the  future.  Whenever  his  immature  manhood 
made  him  take  an  instructive  or  reproving  tone,  she  did 
not  answer  for  two  weeks. 

Well,  then,  he  had  a  sweetheart  now.  He  did  not  crane 
his  neck  any  longer  when  he  went  along  the  Juugfernstieg 
and  the  Burstah,  and  the  need  that  had  pressed  hard  upon 
him  for  some  time  had  been  appeased.  When  it  rose 
again  sometimes,  he  choked  it  back  with  chivalrous  dig- 
nity. Feeling  that  it  was  time  now  for  him  to  lay  aside 
all  signs  of  youth  and  immaturity,  he  lengthened  his  stride, 
giving  it  a  sort  of  conscious  manliness,  and  his  face  took 
on  a  meditative,  anxious  look.  At  home  he  talked  to 
Hanna  as  if  he  were  her  uncle,  urging  her  to  look  after 
the  children's  lessons  every  day.  He  even  dared  to  boast 
a  little  to  his  mother,  and  bore  her  scornful  jests  and  hints 
at  St.  Pauli  with  composure,  saying,  "  You'll  see  some 
day ! "  He  sat  opposite  her,  working  at  English  and 
double  entry  bookkeeping  and  the  laws  of  trade  till  his 
head  swam.     Then  he  dropped  his  book  and  slipped  off 


146  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

into  a  blessed  beautiful  land,  in  the  midst  of  which  rose 
the  aircastle  that  belonged  to  him  and  his  sweetheart. 

Klaus  was  gradually  working  his  way  into  the  very 
heart  of  the  firm's  activity.  As  he  began,  with  his  Low 
German  loyalty,  really  to  live  in  the  life  of  the  firm,  his 
spirit  ebbed  and  flowed  with  what  each  day  brought  to  the 
company.  He  grew  excited  one  day  because  the  quota- 
tion for  lard  was  left  out  of  the  newspaper  report  of  prices 
at  Antwerp  just  when  that  was  of  great  importance  to  the 
firm  on  account  of  the  price  of  copra  ;  and  he  was  dis- 
turbed because  the  firm's  agent  in  Calcutta  had  bought  too 
many  sacks,  which  were  lying  rotting  now.  He  swelled 
up  with  pride  when  the  bookkeeper  made  fun  of  their 
competitors  one  day,  and  called  them  all  stupid  fellows; 
Klaus  agreed  with  him  thoroughly.  And  when  one  paper 
could  not  be  found,  at  the  time  for  taking  the  inventory, 
Klaus  hunted  that  paper  even  in  his  dreams.  Once  when 
the  chief  was  sick,  Klaus  was  terribly  disturbed ;  he  drew 
the  gloomiest  pictures  of  what  might  happen  if  the  chief 
should  be  away  long,  or  should  die. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  he  was  transferred  to  the  mer- 
chandise room,  where  he  learned  to  distinguish  between 
good,  medium,  and  poor  grades  of  all  sorts  of  manufactured 
articles,  and  to  acquire  a  feeling  for  the  value  of  every- 
thing, from  gay  rubber  balls  to  wanton  bronze  statuettes. 
He  managed  to  understand  the  general  tastes  of  each 
nation.  Once,  when  the  quartermaster  was  sick,  Klaus 
stood  in  his  place  in  barge  No.  71  inthe  Grasbrook  harbor,  — 
the  same  barge  he  had  passed  so  often  years  before,  —  in  a 
very  correct  attitude  in  a  hard  frosty  wind  for  five  days, 
overseeing  the  loading  of  goods.  And  when  the  year  was 
over,  he  was  really  able  to  write  to  Suse  Garbens  in  a  long 
letter  that  he  had  Karl  Eschen's  place.  He  stood  there 
in  security,  too,  doing  everything  carefully,  as  Karl  had 
done,  entering  the  debits  and  credits  in  the  great  ledger, 
bound  in  gray,  on  the  outside  of  which  still  stood  the  old 
merchant  motto,  "  Mit  Gott." 

Klaus  was  prouder  than  he  should  have  been.  He 
thought  that  he  was  something  already.     It  is  true  that  he 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  147 

was  running  along  capably  enough,  as  they  showed  him  how 
to  run,  within  the  barriers  which  tlie  discipline  and  custom 
of  ages  and  the  nature  of  men  had  set  up  on  both  sides  of 
his  v/ay.  But  what  is  the  great  thing  ?  Ought  not  a  man 
to  iind  his  own  road  ?  Ought  he  not  to  build  it  for  himself, 
if  it  is  not  made  already,  and  set  up  his  barriers  and  limits 
for  himself  ?  Most  men  never  get  so  far  as  that.  And 
Klaus  Baas  was  still  far,  far  away  from  it. 

He  realized  that  himself  sometimes,  however;  and  that 
was  a  good  sign.  The  feeling  rested  on  his  soul  as  heavy 
shadows  lie  on  a  deep  pond.  In  the  evening,  tired  from 
a  lively  day's  work,  he  stood  in  the  kitchen  waiting  for 
his  supper  ;  the  old  whale  lamp  above  the  hearth  hissed  up 
like  a  little  red  torch,  sank  down  again,  and  spat  and 
sputtered,  and  from  the  workroom  came  the  sound  of  his 
mother's  ceaseless  toil.  Then,  depressed,  he  fell  to  think- 
ing and  dreaming.  Looking  back,  he  thought  of  the 
sorrow  and  care  he  had  lived  through,  his  hard  youth,  and 
the  ridicule  to  which  he  had  been  exposed  ;  he  recognized 
the  boundaries  and  limitations  of  his  abilities  and  ambi- 
tions, and  saw  the  suspicious  elements  of  his  character. 
And  for  the  future  he  foresaw  new  limitations  and  needs 
and  mistakes,  yes,  even  giant  sins  ;  brooding  gloomily  with 
wrinkled  brow,  he  realized  that  the  life  of  man  is  solitary, 
melancholy,  and  mistaken  from  youth  on.  Then  his 
thoughts,  working  on  unconsciously,  took  him  a  step 
farther  :  It  all  depends  on  yourself.  You  ought  to  be  so 
and  so  ;  and  you  can  be.  His  soul  saw  its  own  pure  ideal, 
which  the  everlasting  powers  have  placed  in  every  noble 
soul.  Wonderful  and  beautiful,  full  of  grace  and  truth, 
it  looked  at  him,  saying.  This  is  what  you  ought  to  be  ! 
Then  his  good  young  nature  grew  sad  and  bitter,  and 
could  see  no  joy  in  life. 

And  so  all  the  winds  and  torrents  of  spring  worked  on 
him  with  their  manifold  influence. 


CHAPTER   XI 

Everything  looked  as  if  they  were  going  to  have  an 
unusually  quiet,  cheerful  day.  The  table  in  the  merchan- 
dise room  was  covered  with  ornaments,  bright  hair  deco- 
rations, huge  red  and  blue  hats,  and  all  sorts  of  gimcracks. 
The  procurist  was  bargaining  good-hum oredly  with  the 
agents.  Heini  Peters  had  laid  aside  all  thoughts  of  beau- 
tiful churchyards  and  melancholy  poems,  and  was  making 
an  ingenious  blue  butterfly  flutter  through  the  room. 
The  chief  —  who  appeared  at  nine  —  was  unusually  cheer- 
ful. He  walked  around  the  different  rooms  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  stood  for  a  while  in  front  of  the 
table  looking  at  its  many-colored  burden.  Then  he  and 
the  younger  partner,  who  had  just  come  back  from  India, 
got  into  an  argument  with  the  procurist  of  the  middle 
room  about  whether  the  islands  would  produce  more 
copra,  cocoa,  or  rubber  in  the  future.  And  then  in  came 
the  quartermaster  from  the  harbor,  like  a  breath  of  fresh 
air,  to  report  that  the  bark  loaded  with  copra  for  the  firm, 
whose  arrival  at  Cuxhaven  had  already  been  reported, 
had  just  anchored  in  the  harbor. 

But  while  he  and  the  chief  were  still  talking  about  un- 
loading her,  and  about  delivering  the  cargo,  and  while  the 
clerks  in  the  middle  room  were  scratching  away  busily, 
writing  notices  for  the  various  buyers  of  the  cargo,  sud- 
denly one  of  the  quartermaster's  boys  came  running  in, 
shouting,  "  The  bark's  on  fire  !  "  And  he  handed  over  a 
short  note  from  the  captain. 

Everybody  got  very  much  excited.  The  insurance 
policies  were  hunted  up  and  looked  over ;  the  buyers  of 
the  cargo  were  notified ;  the  firm's  agents  were  sum- 
moned ;  everybody  was  busy  writing  or  running  around. 

148 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  149 

The  chief  went  down  to  the  harbor  himself  with  the 
quartermaster,  and  took  Klaus  Baas  along  to  send  back 
word  by. 

As  they  crossed  toward  the  Kranhoft  in  the  ferry-boat, 
they  could  already  see  smoke  pouring  up  in  heavy  clouds 
above  the  barges.  By  the  time  they  drew  nearer  along 
the  quay,  thick  smoke  was  coming  out  of  the  aft  hatch- 
way. The  west  wind  drove  it  out  over  the  whole  big 
ship,  and  blew  it  up  to  the  very  topmasts.  Two  fire-boats 
were  pouring  in  water  from  the  harbor  side  ;  they  could 
hear  the  streams  bursting  and  gushing  from  the  nozzles. 
Workmen  and  sailors  from  the  ships  near  by  stood  in 
crowds  on  the  dock.  The  chief,  standing  between  the 
captain  and  the  owner  of  the  ship,  looked  on  silently  at 
the  destruction. 

Klaus  Baas,  standing  just  behind  him,  happened  to  look 
around  at  the  crowd  of  harbor-people  of  all  sorts  that  had 
collected  on  the  dock.  Just  at  that  moment  a  troop  of 
sailors,  with  their  bags  over  their  shoulders,  chanced  to 
come  along  the  qua}''  from  their  ship,  and  they  stopped, 
like  the  others,  to  look  at  the  burning  ship.  Their 
clothes,  from  their  shapeless  white  linen  caps  to  their 
worn  down  canvas  shoes,  were  absolutely  falling  to  pieces; 
their  hair  hung  down  belov/  their  ears  and,  young  as  they 
were,  there  were  light  beards  on  their  dark  brown  cheeks. 
From  the  way  they  went  along  in  a  group,  not  paying  any 
attention  to  other  people,  and  every  one  of  them,  as  if  by 
arrangement,  leaving  the  talking  to  some  one  else,  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  they  were  men  that  had  lived  together  for 
many  a  long  month.  While  Klaus  was  still  looking  toward 
them,  he  heard  a  quiet  voice  give  the  word  of  command  : 
"  Well,  children,  up  with  your  bags  again  !  Now  for 
Mother  Kindt's  !  "  And  they  stooped  for  the  sacks,  which 
they  had  laid  down. 

The  independence  in  the  man's  voice  and  the  way  he 
walked  and  held  his  shoulders  made  Klaus  recognize  Kalli 
Dau.  The  stunted  little  boy  had  shot  up  into  a  bronzed, 
sinewy  young  man  ;  he  walked  a  little  too  heavily  for  his 
age,  that  was  all.     Klaus  turned  away  quickly,  so  as  not 


150  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

to  be  recognized  by  his  old  friend  under  the  chief's  very 
eyes,  put  on  an  absorbed  air,  and  gazed  into  the  smoke. 

He  had  so  much  to  do  for  the  rest  of  the  day  that  he 
hardly  thought  of  Kalli  Dau  again.  Toward  evening,  how- 
ever, just  as  he  had  attended  to  the  last  thing  he  had  to 
do  —  entering  a  bill  of  exchange  that  w^as  to  pay  the  cus- 
toms duties  on  some  tobacco  to  be  sent  from  San  Francisco 
to  the  islands  —  he  heard  the  door  behind  him  open  and 
some  heavy  object  slide  dow^n  and  fall.  Turning  around, 
he  saw  Kalli  Dau  standing  at  the  railing.  Kalli  had  got 
shaved,  but  otherwise  he  looked  just  the  same  as  on  the 
wharf ;  he  still  had  the  flat  baker's  cap,  the  blue  handker- 
chief twisted  around  his  neck,  the  huge  tarry  hands,  the 
sack  at  his  feet. 

In  the  penetrating  voice  of  a  man  used  to  addressing  a 
crowd,  he  asked  whether  a  certain  Klaus  Baas  was  here ; 
he  had  to  get  some  information  from  him. 

"Here  I  am,"  Klaus  said,  in  confusion,  "What  can  I 
do  ?  " 

The  chief  came  to  his  door  and  looked  over  with  calm 
curiosity. 

"  I  got  back  home,"  Kalli  said  excitedly,  "  and  it's  all 
empty  !  They  say  mother's  in  jail,  and  my  brother  Jonni 
gone  to  the  bad,  and  Hein's  dead  ;  and  where  the  youngster 
is,  they  don't  know.  I've  been  away  three  years  —  damn 
it  all  —  and  then  to  get  such  a  welcome  as  this  !  I've  got 
to  find  out  whether  there's  any  truth  in  the  story.  Do 
you  know  anything  about  it  ?  " 

Klaus  Baas  threw  a  hasty,  embarrassed  glance  around  the 
room,  where  they  were  all  craning  their  necks  to  hear.  The 
procurist  was  keeping  his  place  in  his  accounts  with  his 
finger,  holding  the  number  he  had  got  to  in  his  head. 
Heini  Peters  was  altogether  lost  in  contemplating  Kalli 
Dau's  apparance ;  he  seemed  to  be  trying  to  think  what  a 
poet  would  make  out  of  this  scene ;  only  Karl  Eschen  did 
not  let  it  disturb  his  work.  The  chief  ended  the  scene  by 
saying,  "  Go  with  your  friend,  Baas,  and  see  if  you  can 
help  him." 

"  That's  jolly,"  Kalli  said.     "  Just  catch  hold  of  this. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  151 

That  sack's  heavy.  I've  got  all  sorts  of  things  in  it  for 
the  folks.  Just  look ;  I've  brought  them  two  beautiful 
stuffed  parrots,  too  —  the  long-tailed  kind."  Klaus  Baas 
had  snatched  up  his  hat.  He  helped  Kalli  get  the  sack 
up  on  his  shoulder  again,  and  wanted  to  take  the  basket 
with  the  parrots  in  himself,  but  Kalli  wouldn't  hear  to 
that.  "  They  have  such  devilish  long  tails,"  he  said, 
"  you'd  break  them  !  "  So,  with  the  huge,  plump  sack  on 
his  shoulders,  he  took  the  long-tailed  parrots  too,  and  they 
set  out. 

When  they  had  got  out  in  the  street,  Klaus  Baas  asked 
him  if  he  didn't  want  to  leave  the  sack  somewhere.  Kalli 
Dau,  however,  said  that  he  didn't  trust  any  man  alive; 
with  sparkling,  deepset  eyes  he  looked  down  from  under 
the  sack  at  Klaus  Baas.  Then  he  stood  still,  scolding  at 
his  parents  because  no  one  could  tell  him  where  his  brothers 
and  sisters  were  ;  it  looked  to  him  as  if  neither  God  nor 
man  had  bothered  himself  about  the  little  fellows,  or  cared 
whether  they  jumped  into  the  Elbe  or  what,-  and  where 
should  he  go  now  to  look  for  them  ? 

Klaus  Baas  finally  remembered  having  heard  that  Jonni 
Dau  had  misbehaved  himself  at  the  head  pastor's  house, 
where  he  had  been  obliged,  as  a  pauper,  to  go  ;  Klaus  pro- 
posed that  they  go  there.  So  off  they  started  through 
the  crowded  streets,  Kalli  ahead  with  the  sack,  Klaus  Baas 
bringing  up  the  rear.  Now  and  then  some  man  that  the 
sack  struck  against  scolded,  but  Kalli  Dau  went  on  quite 
unconcerned.  After  a  walk "  through  byways  and  cross 
streets,  they  found  the  house,  on  a  quiet  street  near  the 
church.  Kalli  Dau  went  in  first.  He  put  the  sack  down 
near  the  door,  cleared  his  throat  vigorously,  and  waited. 

Luckily  for  them,  the  pastor  himself  appeared  in  the 
white  doorway,  looking  at  them  inquiringly.  He  was  an 
elderly,  refined  looking,  smooth-faced  man.  Kalli  Dau 
said,  in  his  loud,  cheerful  voice,  that  he  had  heard  a  report 
that  a  man  named  Jonni  Dau  had  misbehaved  himself  here, 
and  could  they  tell  him  where  he  might  be  found  now  ? 

The  pastor  did  not  seem  to  be  altogether  delighted  at 
this  evening  call.     He  let  them  come  into  the  room,  how- 


152  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

ever,  and  gave  them  the  two  chairs  standing  on  the  right 
and  left  of  the  door.  They  looked  around  the  beautiful 
room  with  curiosity,  staring  at  the  high  broad  bookcases 
full  of  books  and  the  broad  heavy  table,  as  full  of  papers 
as  a  merchant's  table  would  be.  They  studied  the  pastor, 
sitting  there  in  a  handsome  black  coat,  hunting  out  some 
yellow  reports  and  looking  them  over  ;  they  studied  a  thin 
little  man,  not  in  clerical  attire,  whose  shoes  showed  that 
he  had  been  doing  a  good  deal  of  walking.  He  was  sittijig 
at  the  writing-table  looking  over  things,  and  shrugging 
his  shoulders  now  and  then.  The  pastor,  talking  on  as 
he  looked  through  the  reports,  said  to  him,  "  You  know, 
Herr  Candidate,  how  much  is  asked  of  me.  To-morrow, 
for  example,  I  have  to  go  to  an  affair  one  of  our  very  first 
merchants  is  giving ;  and  you  know  that  our  wholesale 
merchants  live  very  well  indeed.  That  will  last  till  mid- 
night or  so  —  and  on  Wednesday  I  am  to  go  to  the  meet- 
ing of  the  Association  of  Poor  Children's  Friends,  —  Senator 
Hagen's  wife  is  chairman,  you  know  —  to  read  a  lecture 
on  Goethe's  lyrics.  And  on  Saturday  there's  a  meeting 
of  the  Hamburg  Historical  Society.  So  you  can  under- 
stand that  there  isn't  much  time  left  for  my  studies  in  old 
Spanish," 

Kalli  Dau  leaned  away  over  toward  Klaus,  and  said, 
rather  loud  ;  "  Say,  you,  what's  all  this  ?  We've  come  to 
the  wrong  place  !  This  fellow's  a  play-actor  or  something 
like  that." 

Klaus  Baas  shook  his  head  vigorously,  giving  him  an 
emphatic  look  of  warning. 

The  candidate  had  heard  Kalli ;  he  got  up,  and  came 
nearer,  saying,  with  a  low  laugh,  "  You've  come  to  the 
right  place." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Kalli  Dau,  out  loud  again,  "  are  all 
those  papers  in  the  bundle  about  my  brother  ?  " 

The  pastor  nodded.  "  He  has  given  us  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,"  he  said. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  said  Kalli  Dau ;  "  and  are  all  the  foolish 
things  he's  done  written  down  there  one  after  another  ?  " 
The  pastor  looked  at  Kalli  Dau,  somewhat  annoyed,  but 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  153 

Kalli  was  far  too  much  lost  in  his  tlioughts  to  heed  him. 
"In  Sydney,"  he  said  to  the  young  man  in  the  muddy 
shoes,  "  we  had  a  boy  on  board  that  stole  our  tobacco  ; 
and  he  was  dirty,  too ;  and  we  hammered  him  till  he 
almost  fell  to  pieces.  And  after  that  he  turned  into  a 
really  respectable  chap.  That's  what  you  ought  to  have 
done  with  m}^  brother.  What  good  does  it  do  to  write 
things  down  ?" 

The  pastor  was  still  turning  over  yellow  reports.  At  last 
he  said,  "  Your  brother  has  been  in  the  habit  of  going  a 
great  deal  to  the  notorious  Siemsche  beer-cellar,  on  the 
Kattrepel,  and  he  was  in  the  Harbor  Hospital  for  several 
weeks.     I  can't  tell  you  anything  else  about  him." 

"  Well  —  we'll  go  there,  then,"  said  Kalli  Dau.  "  Do 
you  want  to  go  part  of  the  way  with  us  ?  "  he  asked  the 
candidate.  The  candidate  said  good  night  to  the  pastor 
and  went  with  them. 

They  got  on  a  street  car,  and  stayed  on  the  rear  platform, 
where  there  were  only  three  people,  so  that  there  was  room 
enough  for  the  sack  and  the  parrots.  That  car  made  so 
much  noise  that  Klaus  Baas  could  not  hear  much  of  what 
Kalli  and  the  candidate  were  saying  ;  once  he  heard  Kalli 
Dau  shouting  out,  as  if  he  were  shouting  through  a  storm, 
"  What  do  you  do  at  the  pastor's,  anyway  ?  "  And  the 
other  answered,  "  I  am  a  sort  of  associate  ;  I'm  going  to 
be  a  pastor,  too."  "Well !  "  said  Kalli,  "then  you  keep 
clear  of  all  that  nonsense  the  other  one  was  talking  about. 
Always  keep  down  among  the  people  !  "  And  from  his 
great  sweeping  gestures,  he  seemed  to  be  explaining  it 
even  more  closely.  The  other  man  listened,  laughed  out 
loud,  shrugged  his  shoulders.  At  the  Rodingsmarkt  he 
got  off  and  walked  away,  shrugging  his  left  shoulder  vig- 
orously. "  He's  a  good  sort !  '"  Kalli  said.  "  I  asked  him 
what  he  wanted  to  be  a  pastor  for?  He  isn't  strong  enough 
to  be  a  sailor,  but  he'd  make  a  good  enough  chap  ;  he's 
straight  and  pleasant,  and  he  knows  how  to  talk." 

It  was  dark  by  the  time  they  got  to  the  Messberg.  They 
got  out  and  went  up  Niedern  Strasse.  The  rather  narrow 
street  was  full  of  busy  people ;  women  standing  around,  or 


154  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

^oin^  back  and  forth  to  the  grocer's ;  workmen,  walking 
heavily,  coming  up  from  the  harbor ;  little  groups  of  dis- 
reputable figures  standing  in  front  of  the  dimly  lighted 
taverns  and  beer-cellars ;  children  dancing  to  the  music 
of  a  hand-organ  clear  across  the  street.  Scotch  barrows 
pushed  their  Avay  through  the  crowd ;  a  wagon  made  its 
way  slowly.  A  dull  reddish  light  played  over  the  whole 
gay  scene.  Kalli  Dau  had  great  difficulty  in  getting  through 
the  crowd  safely  ;  first  the  sack  hit  some  one,  then  the  par- 
rots were  in  danger.  But  vt^hen  he  shoved  the  people  gently 
aside,  they  looked  at  him,  and  then  not  seeming  to  mind  it, 
made  room  for  him,  sometimes  even  saying,  "  Make  a  little 
room  for  the  young  fellow !  " 

They  found  the  entrance  to  the  beer-cellar,  and  went 
down  the  dilapidated  steps  into  a  miserable,  musty  room 
which  had  a  sort  of  bai",  several  benches,  and  two  or  three 
wobbly  tables  on  a  dirty  plaster  floor.  In  a  corner  at  the 
rear  several  men  and  one  old  woman  were  playing  cards 
in  silence ;  the  only  sound  they  made  was  when  their  fists 
struck  dully  against  the  table.  A  little  farther  forward 
an  old  man  was  sitting,  explaining  something  carefully  to 
a  lad,  who  was  listening  eagerly,  leaning  forward,  keen- 
eyed.  A  tall,  loosely  built  fellow  with  a  stupid,  vicious 
face  was  sitting  near  the  bar. 

Kalli  Dau,  seeing  that  his  brother  was  not  there,  asked 
loudly,  "  Does  any  one  here  know  where  Jonni  Dau  is  ?  " 

The  tall  fellow  jumped  up  and  came  forward  insolently. 
"  What  are  you  after  there  ? "  he  asked,  in   a   drunken, 
quarrelsome  tone.     Kalli  repeated  his  question  ;  his  voice 
seemed  like  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  in  that  wretched  under- . 
ground  room. 

The  tall  man  went  almost  up  to  him  ;  but  Kalli  Dau 
pulled  his  sailor's  knife  out  of  his  belt  and  waved  it 
through  the  air,  as  he  repeated  his  question  :  "  Does 
any  one  here  know  where  Jonni  Dau  is?  Do  you  know, 
landlord?" 

"  Look  around  for  yourself!  "  the  drunken  landlord  said 
contemptuously.  "  Is  he  sitting  on  a  bench,  or  is  he  under 
one?     Do  you  see  him  hanging  down  from  the  ceiling? 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  155 

Take  another  look,  why  don't  you  ?     What  do  I  care  for 
your  Jonni  Dau  ?  " 

Turning  around,  they  climbed  up  the  stairs  again  and 
started  off  toward  the  Harbor  Hospital,  Kalli  Dau  silently 
leading  the  way  with  his  load. 

The  doorkeeper  said  that  Jonni  Dau  was  there,  cer- 
tainly, but  that  it  wasn't  the  visiting  hour.  Kalli  Dau, 
setting  down  his  sack  and  parrots,  told  the  man  to  take 
care  of  them,  and  said  that  he  was  Jonni's  brother. 
Then  they  were  taken  through  a  long  corridor  to  a  young 
doctor  who  said  the  man  was  dying  —  or  perhaps  was 
dead.  They  were  taken  into  the  dark  Avard,  and  led  be- 
tween rows  of  folding  beds,  every  one  of  them  occupied, 
till  they  came  to  the  last  bed  on  the  left.  In  the  next  to 
the  last  bed  a  young  man,  evidently  a  mechanic's  appren- 
tice, lay  propped  up  on  his  elbows,  staring  dumb  and 
wide-eyed  at  the  last  bed,  in  which  Jonni  Dau  was 
lying.  Huddled  together,  and  looking  more  quiet  and 
decent  than  he  had  ever  looked  when  he  was  alive,  he 
seemed  to  be  quietly  stoojiing  to  squeeze  himself  into  some 
corner  on  a  regular  Hamburg  rainy  day. 

They  stood  for  a  while  motionless,  looking  down  at  the 
dead  man  ;  then  they  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  young 
workman's  bed,  still  looking  at  Jonni.  Kalli  Dau  rubbed 
his  hands  between  his  knees  till  they  cracked.  He  asked 
the  young  man  whether  his  brother  had  said  anything 
about  where  his  mother  and  the  children  were. 

The  young  man  said  that  he  had  told  them  that  his 
mother  had  committed  an  assault  on  a  girl  that  had  been 
carrying  on  a  love  affair  with  her  husband,  and  had  em- 
bezzled some  money,  too.  The  children  were  in  the  alms- 
house. 

Kalli  Dau  hunched  himself  together  till  he  looked  a 
little  like  his  dead  brother,  and  rubbed  his  hands  harder 
than  ever.  Then  he  said,  in  his  grandfatherly  way,  "  Our 
sailmaker,  who  lives  somewhere  on  the  Deich  here,  ran 
across  an  old  friend  once  that  he  hadn't  seen  for  a  long 
time,  and  one  of  the  things  he  asked  him  was,  '  Say,  Hans, 
or  Peter,  or  whatever  the  fellow's  name    was,    how   are 


156  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

your  children  getting  along  ? '  The  man  made  such  a 
face  that  the  cold  shivers  ran  down  the  sailmaker's  back, 
and  said,  '  Ask  me  about  anything  else  in  the  world,  but 
don't  you  ask  me  any  questions  about  my  children.'  And 
that's  what  I  say  —  ask  me  about  anything  else  in  the 
world,  ask  me  about  a  hundred  comrades,  ask  me  about 
ten  or  twenty  forecastle  visitors,  yes,  ask  me  about  Mother 
Kindt  in  Hopfen  Strasse,  who  has  been  pretty  good  to 
me,  ask  me  about  Frau  Marie  in  the  wineshop  on  Liver- 
pool Street  in  Sj'dney  —  but  don't  you  ask  me  any  ques- 
tions about  my  father  and  mother.  Sometimes  when  we 
were  on  watch,  the  others  would  say,  '  Say,  Kalli,  what 
does  your  father  do?  Why  don't  you  ever  talk  about 
your  father  and  mother?'  Then  I  said,  'My  family's 
rotten  all  through.  Does  anybody  want  to  fight  with 
me  ?  '  Then  they  left  me  in  peace.  That  fourth  com- 
mandment always  made  me  mad,  even  when  I  was  a 
youngster.  I  think  that  commandment  read  the  other 
way  round  a  few  hundred  5^ears  ago,  for  the  children  are 
decenter  and  more  sensible  than  their  parents,  every  time. 
Well  :  now  we  won't  talk  about  it  any  more.  He  slipped 
in  the  slime  of  the  Hamburg  streets ;  well,  it's  slippery 
enough  ;  I  nearly  fell  in  it  myself.  But  I  jumped  on  to 
the  deck,  do  you  remember,  Klaus?  I  couldn't  help  him 
at  all  —  my  conscience  is  clear — absolutely  clear  —  " 

He  shook  his  head.  Two  attendants  came  up  to  carry 
away  the  bed. 

"  I  was  on  the  Santa  Barbara  a  whole  year,"  Kalli  Dau 
said,  still  lost  in  thought.  "  It  was  an  Italian  fourmaster, 
and  a  little  out  of  date.  It  didn't  have  a  regular  capstan 
for  the  anchor,  for  instance,  —  but  a  sort  of  pump  arrange- 
ment, the  kind  they  used  to  make  about  the  year  one  ; 
and  the  food  just  about  matched  it ;  and  at  first  I  couldn't 
understand  their  language.  But  except  for  that  it  was 
quite  enjoyable  —  sit  down,"  he  said  to  the  attendants ; 
"you  must  have  a  little  time  to  spare,  and  can  let  me 
have  my  talk  out.  Well,  there  were  two  men  on  board 
that  had  been  working  in  Brazil  for  years,  on  a  railroad 
that  was  being  built  there,  and  now  they  were  going  back 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  157 

to  Italy  with  their  savings ;  they  both  had  a  wife  and 
chikh-en  waiting  for  them.  One  of  them  was  a  jolly  fel- 
low, the  loudest  laugher  and  the  liveliest  talker  on  the 
whole  ship,  and  that's  saying  something,  too,  for  all  the 
rest  were  Italians  but  me.  The  other  was  a  false  chap, 
you  could  tell  it  by  his  eyes ;  and  his  laugh  always  came 
after  everybody  else's,  and  it  wasn't  a  good  laugh  to  hear. 
Well,  one  black  night,  after  we  had  had  a  storm  that 
lasted  for  three  days  and  nights  and  beat  us  far  to  the 
south  of  our  course,  and  tired  us  all  out,  it  was  the  jolly 
fellow's  turn  to  stand  the  lookout.  I  told  you  it  was  a 
black  night,  and  the  weather  was  still  bad,  and  we  were 
dog-tired ;  I  imagine  we  were  all  asleep.  But  an  hour 
later,  when  some  one  happened  to  go  forward,  the  look- 
out man  was  gone.  We  looked  for  him,  but  couldn't  find 
him,  80  we  supposed  that  he  had  fallen  overboard.  Then 
the  captain  opened  the  dead  man's  chest.  And  there  was 
no  money  in  it,  not  one  single  milreis. 

"  Well,  from  then  on  every  one  of  us  twenty-two  men 
went  around  thinking  that  some  one  of  the  others  was  a 
murderer.  And  the  next  thing,  each  of  us  was  saying 
so  to  the  man  he  had  the  most  confidence  in.  We  could 
see  that  thought  in  every  other  man's  eyes,  'You  didn't 
do  it,'  or  '  Did  you  do  it  ?  '  but  never,  'You  did  it.'  The 
men  that  were  standing  watch  together  didn't  speak  to 
each  other;  the  men  that  were  asleep,  off  watch,  groaned 
as  they  slept;  the  men  that  were  at  the  wheel  together 
didn't  take  hold  of  the  same  spoke.  Only  the  cabin-boy, 
a  little  orange  seller,  that  they  had  brought  along  from 
the  Via  Balbi  in  Genoa,  whistled  away  all  day  as  usual, 
because  he  didn't  know  anything  about  gold  and  glitter, 
and  couldn't  imagine  doing  such  a  thing. 

"  Well,  this  went  on  for  three,  four  days  or  more,  and 
all  this  time  we  had  bad  weather.  It  was  like  living  in  a 
house  of  correction  that  has  no  manager  and  that's  going 
to  fall  to  pieces  any  minute.  We  hadn't  any  belief  in 
ourselves  any  longer,  or  in  any  one  else;  we  didn't  feel 
any  laws  in  ourselves  or  above  ourselves;  we  had  just 
stopped   being   human.     And  so,  not  keeping  anything 


158  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

shipshape,  we  drove  on  through  bad  weather  toward 
Madeira. 

"  And  then,  one  dark,  cloudy  evening,  —  we  were  driv- 
ing along  with  a  brisk  southwest  wind  that  whistled  and 
howled  in  the  sails,  —  all  at  once  a  long  cry  came  from  up 
forward,  the  sort  of  cry  that  draws  you.  I'll  never  for- 
get it  as  long  as  I  live.  We  rushed  out  of  the  cabin;  the 
men  aft  called  out  through  the  darkness  to  ask  what 
was  wrong  forward.  The  cry  came  again;  it  sounded  as 
if  it  came  from  a  tortured  soul ;  it  called  us  and  made  us 
come.  Every  man  of  us  rushed  out  of  the  cabin  and  up 
the  gangway,  panic-stricken.  And  again  and  again  that 
horrible  deep  cry  came  from  forward. 

"  We  asked  each  other  wildly  who  had  been  keeping 
the  lookout.  The  lookout  stepped  up  and  said  that  he 
had  just  run  over  to  the  cabin  to  get  his  pipe  when  the 
first  cry  came.  We  counted  noses;  we  were  all  there. 
And  the  cry  kept  coming,  making  us  tremble  like  masts 
in  a  storm.  I  suppose  we  had  stood  there  talking  and 
shouting  for  several  minutes  —  things  go  fast  in  a  time 
like  that  —  when  the  moon  came  out  from  under  a  cloud, 
and  up  forward  we  saw  a  figure  standing  by  the  larboard 
crane-beam,  in  the  shade  of  the  fore-stay-sail.  And  the 
figure  beckoned  to  us  to  come. 

"  Then  the  captain  got  up  and  went  down  the  gang- 
way amidships  toward  it.  But  when  he  had  got  to  the 
cabin,  the  figure  motioned  to  him  to  go  back.  Then  the 
mate  went  over;  and  he  too  was  sent  back.  Then  all  the 
other  men  cowering  around  the  skylight  went  over.  They 
went  along,  one  after  another,  as  timidly  as  if  the  deck 
was  a  sheet  of  thin  ice;  some  of  them  whimpered,  others 
called  on  all  the  saints,  some  confessed  out  loud  all  sorts 
of  petty,  miserable  tilings  they  had  done.  I  was  astonished 
to  see  what  filth  and  slime  the  human  heart  can  hold. 

"  Finally  it  seemed  as  if  only  the  boy  and  I  were  left. 
The  boy,  who  had  never  done  anything  before  but  whistle 
and  sing,  cowered  at  my  feet.  He  shut  his  eyes,  held  his 
ears,  and  whimpered.  I  pulled  him  up,  took  him  by  the 
arm,  and   dragged   him   down   the   gangway,    screaming 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  159 

out  loud,  and  holding  his  hands  over  his  eyes;  but 
I  looked  straight  ahead,  for  I  had  a  good  conscience 
and  wasn't  afraid  of  God  or  the  devil.  When  I  got  to 
the  cabin,  I  could  see  the  figure  clearly,  standing  in  the 
gray  darkness.  I  couldn't  recognize  it,  but  I  could  see 
how  it  held  its  head  forward  as  if  it  was  trying  to  see 
who  was  coming.  Then  I  pulled  the  boy's  hands  off 
his  eyes  and  he  stared  over,  but  the  figure  waved  him 
off.     He  ran  back  shrieking.     I  was  left  alone. 

"  Then  I  drew  out  my  knife.  I  thought,  I'll  stick  it 
in  his  heart  or  in  mine.  I  went  three  steps  nearer,  and 
shrieked  out  at  him  :  '  I  slept  with  the  innkeeper's  daugh- 
ter in  Christiansand,  —  she  was  fifteen  and  I  was  seventeen, 
—  was  that  a  sin  —  eh  ?  I  brought  the  boy  down  off  the 
mainyard  in  a  storm  off  Newfoundland,  when  the  yard 
was  swinging  loose  by  a  rope,  and  no  one  else  would  go 
up.'  Then  I  screamed  out  loud  into  the  wind  and  struck 
around  with  my  knife,  and  called  out  against  God  and 
the  devil,  so  that  he  would  know  my  conscience  was  good  ; 
and  I  was  going  to  make  a  rush  on  him,  but  when  I  got 
to  the  gangway  up  to  the  larboard  side,  he  waved  me  off. 
I  had  my  mind  made  up  to  get  at  him,  and  I  sprang  up 
the  gangway.  But  then  I  saw  from  the  way  he  stood  and 
looked  that  he  was  there  on  some  one  else's  errand;  and 
I  went  back  slowly ;  I  could  hear  my  breath  come  with  a 
rattle,  and  my  whole  body  was  as  wet  as  if  I  had  just  been 
pulled  out  of  the  water.  And  behind  me  came  that  grue- 
some cry. 

"  Most  of  the  men  were  lying  huddled  up,  their  heads 
between  their  shoulders,  eyes  and  ears  shut,  groaning  and 
praying,  some  gently,  some  loudly.  The  captain  sat  there 
dumb,  with  his  arms  folded  in  distress.  He  was  a  good, 
brave  man.  The  mate  was  crying  bitterly.  And  that 
cry  kept  coming  all  the  time  from  the  poop,  impatient, 
agonized,  as  if  it  came  from  some  terrible  throat  that  was 
not  human.  Some  men  screamed  out  that  we  had  all  been 
over ;  even  the  dead  man's  friend  raised  his  head  and 
screamed  it. 

"  Then  I  took  hold.     I  pulled  up  each  one  and  asked 


160  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

the  others  if  he  had  been  over ;  and  there  was  always 
some  one  who  could  bear  witness  for  him,  till  I  came  to 
the  dead  man's  friend,  and  there  was  no  one  that  could 
vouch  for  him.  Then  three  or  four  of  us  said  he  had  to 
go.  He  refused,  and  swore,  and  hugged  the  captain's 
knees,  and  shrieked  like  a  wild  beast.  But  the  mate  and 
I  picked  him  up  and  pulled  him  along  past  the  cabin ; 
and  then  we  saw  the  figure  motion  to  him  to  come.  I 
saw  clearly  that  it  motioned  the  way  the  Italians  do,  from 
above  downwards,  not  the  way  we  do,  from  below  up. 
We  let  go  of  him,  and  pointed  to  him  to  go  over.  He 
saw  that  there  was  no  help  in  the  world  for  him ;  shaking 
and  whimpering  he  went  up  the  gangway,  and  disappeared 
in  the  darkness.  We  heard  a  sort  of  death-rattle,  and 
that  was  all.  I  stood  at  the  wheel  all  the  rest  of  the 
night ;  and  around  me  stood  or  lay  twenty  men. 

"  The  next  morning,  in  the  presence  of  all  the  crew,  the 
captain  opened  the  chest  of  the  man  who  had  been  called 
away.  We  found  nothing  in  it,  but  hidden  in  his  bed  we 
found  the  dead  man's  mone3^  From  that  time  on  we  felt 
like  human  beings  again ;  we  cleaned  up  the  ship,  and 
stood  watch  regularly,  and  got  to  Genoa  all  right.  You 
see  —  it  all  depends  on  having  a  good  conscience.  Your 
conscience  has  to  be  all  right.  Then  everything's  all 
right.  Even  when  you  go  striking  out  against  God  and 
the  devil  with  your  knife  in  your  hand!  I  —  I  can't 
help  it  that  this  man  here  slipped  in  the  mud  of  the 
streets ;  he  was  older  than  I  was  —  and  then  I  had  to 
jump  on  deck  and  get  out  of  the  mud  myself  —  " 

Kalli  did  not  look  at  his  dead  brother  again ;  nodding  to 
the  young  workman  and  to  the  attendants,  he  got  up  and 
went  out,  Klaus  Baas  bringing  up  the  rear  in  silence. 

When  Ivalli  was  outside  again  with  his  sack  on  his 
shoulder  and  his  parrots  in  his  hand,  he  stood  for  a  while 
undecided  where  to  go. 

"  Come  home  with  me,  Kalli,"  Klaus  Baas  said.  "  Come 
and  have  supper  with  us." 

Kalli  Dau  stood  looking  down  at  the  ground.  His  thin 
brown  face  had  grown  pale.     "  I  suppose  I  might  go  with 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  161 

you,"  he  said,  "  or  I  might  go  to  see  an  old  great-uncle  of 
mine  that  lives  in  Blankenese.  But  why  should  I  stay 
around  here  if  I  can't  go  to  see  my  mother  and  my 
brotliers  and  sisters  ?  "  He  shook  his  head  thoughtfully. 
"  The  best  thing  for  me  to  do  is  to  go  straight  to  Bremen. 
I  can  get  taken  on  there  on  a  bark  that's  going  to  Van- 
couver.    Yes,  that's  what  I'll  do." 

He  set  his  bundles  down  again,  and  pulling  out  four 
hundred  marks  in  gold  and  paper,  gave  them  to  Klaus 
Baas,  saying,  "  Put  it  in  the  savings  bank,  and  if  she  —  oh, 
you  know  —  ever  needs  it,  give  it  to  her,  but  only  one 
mark  at  a  time,  do  you  hear  ?  "  He  looked  at  the  sack, 
not  knowing  what  to  do  wdth  it.  "  I  wanted  to  bring 
some  things  to  her  and  the  children,"  he  said;  "well,  you 
can  just  give  them  to  your  youngsters."  He  brought  out 
all  sorts  of  trifles  —  a  little  casket  made  of  black  wood,  a 
few  fans  made  of  fine  straw,  and  several  cocoanuts ;  then 
he  tied  up  the  sack  again  with  great  care.  He  looked  at 
the  two  parrots  ;  it  was  a  wrench,  parting  with  them  ;  but 
he  said,  "  Oh,  just  give  them  to  Hanna.  She's  a  nice  little 
girl,  and  she'll  take  good  care  of  them.  And  perhaps  I'll 
come  back  to  see  you  some  day.  Tell  her  to  sprinkle  them 
with  camphor  now  and  then  to  keep  the  moths  out.  Do 
you  want  to  go  along  to  the  station '! " 

On  the  way  Klaus  Baas  asked,  "  Are  you  rated  now  as 
a  regular  able-bodied  seaman  ?  " 

He  nodded. 

"  Are  you  going  to  try  to  work  up  to  be  a  mate  ?  " 

Kalli  Dau  denied  that  with  a  decisive  shake  of  his  head. 
"  You  haven't  got  very  much  sense  !  "  he  said.  "  Do  you 
think  I  went  to  sea  just  to  get  a  fine,  easy  job  like  that, 
and  to  walk  the  deck  with  a  stiff  collar  on  ?  No,  sir  ;  I'm 
going  to  be  a  seaman  on  a  sailing  vessel,  and  that's  all 
there  is  to  it." 

Half  an  hour  later,  when  they  came  out  of  the  waiting- 
room,  they  found  the  train  ready  to  start.  Kalli  Dau 
pushed  along  through  the  throng,  on  a  trot,  carrying  his 
sack  on  his  shoulder.  Just  as  Klaus  Baas  came  up  behind 
him,  he  threw  his  sack  straight  into  a  fourth  class  com- 


162  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

partment,  so  that  a  fat,  elderly  woman  had  hardly  time 
to  jump  aside. 

"Good  gracious!"  she  said,  "how  rough  some  folks 
are!" 

"  You  must  keep  out  of  the  way,  mother  !  "  he  said, 
following  his  sack  in.  He  shook  hands  with  Klaus  Baas 
and  disappeared  in  the  compartment. 

The  next  evening,  as  Klaus  left  the  office,  Karl  Eschen 
came  down  the  stairs  behind  him.  In  his  deliberate  way, 
he  said,  "I  noticed  that  you  didn't  altogether  like  having 
that  sailor  visit  you.  If  I  may  say  so,  I  consider  it  al- 
together wrong  to  keep  up  such  friendships.  I  do  not  say 
that  such  people  are  common,  or  that  they  have  too  little 
culture;  but  going  about  with  persons  of  a  different  class 
from  one's  own,  whether  they  are  of  a  higher  class  or  a 
lower,  makes  one  lose  the  correct  feeling  for  his  own  class 
and  makes  him  less  assured.  Of  course  I  know  that  your 
friendship  with  this  sailor  isn't  a  matter  of  rank  sentimental- 
ity, like  Heini  Peters's  friendship  with  a  dozen  young  girls 
and  half  a  dozen  sextons ;  I  understand  that  it's  an  old 
attachment.  But  you  must  make  up  your  mind  whether 
this  attachment  and  loyalty  does  good  to  you  and  the 
sailor,  or  harm." 

Klaus  Baas  listened  in  silence.  He  was  very  conscious 
of  that  lack  of  assurance  of  which  Eschen  spoke,  and  he 
could  see  plainly  how  he  could  make  himself  more  com- 
posed, perhaps  like  the  very  man  who  was  talking  to  him 
with  so  much  quiet  assurance.  The  next  evening,  how- 
ever, when  he  heard  Eschen's  step  behind  him,  he  waited 
for  him,  to  tell  him  that  that  sailor  had  done  him  many  a 
good  turn  when  they  were  children  together,  and  that  that 
made  him  feel  like  keeping  up  the  friendship ;  and  that  he 
felt  just  the  same  way  about  his  mother  and  the  other 
children.  Even  though  he  would  be  hampered  all  his  life 
by  the  fact  that  he  came  from  people  of  a  rather  low  station, 
and  that  he  still  belonged  there,  still  he  would  rather  put 
up  with  that  disadvantage  than  feel  that  he  had  betrayed 
an  old  friend.  And  even  if  that  did  make  it  more  difficult 
for  him  to  get  along,  get  along  he  would,  nevertheless ! 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  163 

Esclien  nodded  deliberately.  "  That  sounds  reason- 
able," he  said,  with  curt  politeness.     Then  he  went  on. 

Klaus  Baas  went  on  toward  home.  As  he  went  along 
through  the  crowd  going  down  Berg  Strasse,  he  resolved 
that  he  would  indeed  get  on!  For  a  long  time  he  had  been 
conscious  that  he  was  gradually  getting  a  deeper  under- 
standing of  the  real  meaning  of  mercantile  activity.  He 
realized  that  the  office  work  he  had  been  doing  for  these 
three  years  was  work  of  only  second-rate  importance  — 
nothing  but  what  a  sort  of  loyal  conscientious  upper  clerk 
could  do ;  to  a  person  who  wanted  to  climb  higher,  such 
work  amounted  to  nothing  more  than  getting  used  to  his 
tools.  To  be  a  real  merchant,  more  than  this  was  necessary ; 
he  had  to  be  able  to  perceive  the  needs  that  civilization 
had  created,  or  perhaps  to  discover  new  needs,  or  perhaps 
even  to  create  them ;  and  then  he  must  know  hovv^  to 
satisfy  these  needs,  swiftly,  wisely,  in  a  way  that  would 
give  a  return  on  the  capital  he  was  using,  without  being 
unjust.  Klaus  had  learned  to  use  the  tools  of  his  trade  ; 
he  had  proved  that  he  was  wide  awake  and  practical,  and 
that  he  took  a  real  pleasure  in  his  work  —  was  even  greedy 
for  work  sometimes.  And  so  he  was  entitled  to  hope,  and 
really  did  hope  now,  that  this  constant  pondering  on  things 
and  their  connections  would  bring  him  some  day  to  some 
sort  of  independent,  successful  work. 

On  a  bright,  though  sunless,  September  day,  he  went  to 
the  office  for  the  last  time.  His  apprentice  years  were 
over.  He  spent  the  morning  estimating  the  value  of  the 
cargo  of  wood,  oil,  and  food  supplies  of  all  kinds  that  was 
to  go  from  San  Francisco  to  the  Tonga  Islands,  and  sent 
a  statement  of  the  total  to  the  insurance  agent.  He  sent 
a  telegram  to  their  principal  branch  office,  directing  them 
on  no  account  to  go  over  the  prescribed  limit  in  buying 
copra.  And  he  gave  his  successor  the  necessary  explana- 
tions about  his  books  and  work. 

Then  the  chief  called  him  into  his  office  and  gave  him  a 
good  round  sum  to  see  him  through  the  two  years  of  mili- 
tary service.  The  chief  spoke  pleasantly  about  Klaus's 
work,  and  Klaus,  with  glowing  eyes,  expressed  his  grati- 


164  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

tude  for  having  learned  in  these  rooms  how  to  work  hard 
and  intensely  and  to  take  pleasure  in  it.  Then  he  went 
down  the  old  worn  stairs  and  hurried  home. 

Antje  Baas  was  working  with  the  girls  in  the  workroom. 
Klaus  went  into  the  kitchen  and  lighted  the  old  whale  oil 
lamp.  Sitting  down  at  the  table,  he  spread  out  his  twenty 
mark  pieces,  one  after  another,  and  revelled  in  their 
pretty,  dull  glow,  brought  out  against  the  brov/n  table  by 
the  dim,  unsteady  light.  As  his  mother  did  not  come  in, 
he  began  to  scrape  his  chair  and  shuffle  his  feet. 

That  brought  Antje  Baas  in  at  last.  Klaus  pointed  to 
the  gold  with  a  silent,  insolent  sweep  of  his  hand,  and  she 
saw  it  lying  there.  Her  eyes  opened  wide,  and  in  her 
curt,  jerky  way,  she  praised  the  cliief  and  scolded  Klaus. 
"  How  can  a  grown-up  man  be  so  fond  of  playing!  You're 
just  like  your  father!  " 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said  hastily,  "  that  must  be  why  you 
were  so  fond  of  father !  " 

She  gave  him  a  strange,  haughty  look,  and  grew  red. 
"  What  do  you  know  about  that  ?  "  she  said. 

He  pushed  his  gold  pieces  back  and  forth,  keeping  his 
eyes  on  the  table.  "I'm  twenty  now,  mother!"  he  said. 
After  a  while,  seeing  that  she  did  not  get  angry,  he  went 
on,  "  Mother,  it  isn't  right  for  you  to  make  Hanna  be  a 
tailor;  she  doesn't  like  it  at  all.  And  a  person  doesn't 
learn  anything  in  a  calling  he  doesn't  like." 

In  his  former  words  Antje  Baas  had  seen  for  the  first 
time  that  Klaus  was  becoming  a  man.  So  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  asked  his  advice. 

Speaking  slowly  and  deliberately,  so  as  not  to  lose  her 
good  opinion,  Klaus  said,  "  She  did  so  well  at  school,  and 
she  has  always  been  so  fond  of  helping  the  children  Avith 
their  lessons;  and  she  wants  to  be  a  teacher.  Let's  use 
four  hundred  marks  for  that.  I  can  get  along  these  two 
years  while  I'm  a  soldier." 

She  sat  down  at  the  table  opposite  him.  "  You  want  to 
hand  over  four  hundred  marks  ?  "  she  said  curtly.  "  You'll 
never  be  anything." 

"Yes,  I  will!"  he  said  weightily.     "This  proves  it. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  165 

I'm  acting  like  an  honest  merchant.  Why,  it's  your 
money;  you've  always  supported  me." 

As  she  did  not  answer,  he  called  Hanna  out  of  the  sew- 
ing room,  and  showed  her  the  gold,  rather  boastfully. 
"  You're  to  go  to  the  seminary!  "  he  said. 

She  clapped  her  hands  over  her  head  in  surprise,  sat 
down,  and  like  the  young  girl  she  was,  laid  her  head  on  the 
table  and  began  to  cry .  She  had  inherited  her  father's 
temperament,  and  suffered  keenly  from  the  utterly  differ- 
ent nature  of  her  mother,  with  whom  she  had  been  work- 
ing from  morning  till  evening,  in  the  same  room. 

Then  Antje  Baas  got  up,  saying,  in  her  old  harsh  tone: 
"  You  two  will  never  grow  up !  Are  you  going  to  leave 
that  money  lying  there  till  to-morrow?  Put  it  away!" 
and  she  went  back  to  her  sewing. 

Then  Klaus  and  Hanna  talked  everything  over.  At 
first  they  were  a  little  depressed  at  their  mother's  un- 
sympathetic tone,  but  soon  they  grew  cheerful  again. 
Finally  Klaus  told  her  that  he  was  going  back  home  to- 
morrow—  to  their  uncle  the  pastor's. 

Pulling  out  Suse  Garbens's  letters,  he  showed  her  some 
of  them,  and  pointed  out  the  way  they  all  ended,  —  "I 
am,  with  a  thousand  k— ."  "What  do  you  think  that 
k —  stands  for  ?  "  he  said. 

She  nodded,  laughing. 

"  We've  been  writing  to  each  other  for  two  years,"  he 
said,  with  rather  a  large  air,  "  but  she  has  never  written 
that  word  out.  I'm  going  there  now  to  tell  her  that  now 
she's  to  write  it  out  !  She  hasn't  written  at  all  for  six 
months ;  I  can't  imagine  what's  got  into  the  little  girl's 
noddle.     Well  —  it's  time  I  went  over  there." 


CHAPTER   XII 

She  was  really  standing  waiting  for  him  in  the  empty 
little  station.  She  was  smaller  than  he  had  supposed  she 
would  be,  —  had  not  grown  much  taller  indeed  than  she 
was  the  night  she  went  to  sleep  on  the  floor  in  front  of  the 
bureau.  But  she  had  grown  mature  as  the  warm,  beauti- 
ful autumn  day,  and  was  even  prettier  than  the  picture 
she  had  sent  him  a  year  ago.  He  had  set  out  with  a 
great  deal  of  confidence  ;  but  in  the  face  of  such  ripeness 
and  cheerful  assurance,  it  began  to  slip  away. 

With  a  free  laugh  that  lit  up  her  whole  face,  brown 
eyes  and  all,  she  said,  "  What  a  lot  of  writing  we  two 
have  been  doing  !  " 

"  Oh  !  "  he  said,  a  little  reproachfully,  coming  to  the 
point  at  once,  "  and  a  thousand  kisses  every  time  !  " 

She  laughed  again.  "  Not  so  far  as  that !  only  a 
thousand  k — !  Thank  heaven,  I  never  wrote  it  out ! 
But  it  was  fun  just  the  same  !  You  really  write  awfully 
nice  letters  —  neat  and  polite.  They're  a  little  instructive 
now  and  then,  but  that  doesn't  matter,  I  suppose.  Just 
think,  six  months  ago  I  fell  in  love  with  a  student.  That 
was  why  I  stopped  writing  to  you.  But  it  wasn't  any- 
thino-  serious." 

"  Why  not?  "  Klaus  asked,  and  his  voice  shook. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  with  the  same  cheerful  assurance, 
"  he  couldn't  get  married  for  three  years,  and  he  hadn't 
any  money,  either ;  so  it  would  have  been  silly,  of  course. 
Of  course  I'm  telling  you  all  this  in  confidence  !  But 
just  think  !  I  am  really  engaged  now  !  Eight  days  ago  ! 
to  a  man  that  owns  an  estate  !  He's  good-looking  and 
clever,  and  about  thirty-five  —  and  father  says  that  some 
day  he'll  be  elected  to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies.     That's 

166 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  167 

enough  about  him;  but  I  wanted  to  tell  you  about  it 
right  away,  because  he's  to  be  at  our  house  for  dinner 
to-day." 

Poor  Klaus  Baas's  heart  sank  at  this  news.  For  a 
while  he  looked  stiffly  down  the  road  so  as  not  to  look  in 
her  gleaming  eyes.  "  So  that's  it  !  "  he  thought ;  "  so 
that's  it!  For  years  I've  been  thinking  about  you  —  for 
years !  You're  beautiful,  oh,  how  beautiful  you  are ! 
But  you  needn't  think  that  I'll  let  you  see  how  I  feel ! 
Well  —  I'm  twenty  years  old  —  twenty!  And  you  girl, 
you  pretty,  horrid  thing,  you,  there  are  lots  more  like 
you !  I'll  get  a  sweetheart  yet  in  spite  of  you  !  "  And 
in  a  voice  of  feigned  cheerfulness  he  began  a  series  of 
loud,  hearty  questions,  about  what  the  man's  name  was, 
how  large  his  estate  was,  and  so  on.  And  all  the  while 
he  was  scolding  himself  for  his  stupidity.  "  How  could  I 
be  such  a  fool  to  think  that  everything  was  just  the  way 
I  wanted  it!  Just  on  account  of  the  thousand  k — ! 
Oh,  I'm  a  good  merchant  !  Not  to  know  the  difference 
between  the  mere  form  of  a  bond  and  the  bond  itself ! 
I'll  never  get  caught  like  this  again  in  all  my  life  !  That's 
just  like  the  Baases  !  Damn  it  all !  I'll  be  suspicious ! 
ill  investigate  everything !  I'll  be  prepared  for  any- 
thing !  Well  —  I'm  twenty,  twenty  years  old  !  "  Swing- 
ing his  cane,  he  asked  her  when  the  wedding  was  to  be. 
She  said  that  they  were  to  live  for  several  months  each 
year  in  Berlin,  where  her  husband  had  to  go  to  look  after 
some  sort  of  honorary  office  for  his  province. 

When  Klaus  said  that  she  seemed  to  be  making  a  good 
match,  the  bright  little  witch  said  that  she  was  a  good 
match  herself,  because  she  was  the  only  child  of  parents 
who  had  property,  and  was  also  the  heiress  of  an  uncle 
who  had  no  children. 

Since  her  affairs  were  so  prosperous,  Klaus  thought  he 
had  better  touch  up  his  own  a  little ;  so  he  said  tliat  after 
his  military  service  was  over  he  was  to  set  off  across  the 
seas  at  once  ;  it  looked  now  as  if  he  were  to  go  to  Brazil. 
He  made  up  some  things  to  tell  about  his  mother  and 
sisters,  too,  and  did  not  hold  back  even  when  he  noticed 


168  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

that  he  was  getting  suspiciously  near  to  boastful  lying 
again.  This  was  no  time  to  stop  with  a  little  story  ;  this 
was  the  time  to  tell  a  good  big  one.  "  I've  just  got  to 
hold  my  own  with  her,  and  I  will ;  and  then  I'll  never  come 
here  again."  He  went  along  beside  her,  so  cheerful  that 
he  almost  managed  to  make  her  think  that  he  had  never 
thought  seriously  of  her.  Then  she  took  greater  pleasure 
in  telling  him  all  the  details  of  her  happy  lot. 

Her  parents,  who  had,  in  the  course  of  all  these  years, 
begun  to  get  gray-haired,  and  to  think  rather  more  about 
being  comfortable,  received  Klaus  rather  cordially,  praised 
his  fine  bearing,  said  he  was  a  promising  young  man,  and 
sent  him  out  to  the  garden  till  supper  time. 

When  he  went  back  to  the  house,  the  engaged  couple 
met  him  on  the  threshold.  The  blue  silk  gown  which  Suse 
had  put  on  in  honor  of  the  occasion  fitted  her  plump  figure 
well ;  and  he  was  a  fine  looking,  well  grown  man.  They 
went  in  to  dinner.  They  had  good  wine  to  drink.  Klaus 
Baas  drank  it,  put  a  word  into  the  conversation  now  and 
then  like  all  the  others,  and  hugged  a  feeling  that  he  was 
safe.  The  country  gentleman  soon  began  to  ask  what  sort 
of  firm  P.  C.  Trimborn's  was.  Klaus  answered  him  like  a 
man  who  understands  thoroughly  what  he  is  talking  about, 
and  who  knows  how  to  set  forth  as  much  as  it  is  well  to 
tell.  The  countryman  expatiated  on  the  significance  to  the 
national  economy  of  our  foreign  trade,  which  had  just 
reached  the  period  of  its  great  development.  He  worked 
in  the  history  of  Portugal,  Holland,  and  England,  speaking 
always  from  the  point  of  view  of  his  position  and  calling, 
with  the  meditative  care  of  a  man  who  sees  in  the  past 
history  of  the  world  some  pictures  that  cheer  him  and  some 
that  terrify  him.  Klaus  Baas  was  not  deficient  in  his- 
torical feeling ;  and  he  had  read  of  one  thing  and  another 
in  mercantile  handbooks  and  in  the  great  Hamburg  papers. 
Of  regular  teaching,  however,  he  had  had  very  little  ;  and 
anyhow,  at  twenty  a  man  is  no  historian ;  he  is  a  philoso- 
pher. So  Klaus  came  out  with  all  sorts  of  generalizations, 
which  had  come  into  his  head  while  he  was  working  along. 
He  had  never  had  any  opportunity  to  tell  them  to  any  one ; 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  169 

but  sitting  in  this  intimate  little  circle,  with  a  glass  of 
wine,  brought  them  out.  He  talked  about  the  sale  of 
brandy  and  muskets,  about  all  kinds  of  rubbish  put  into 
the  wares  that  were  exported,  about  ethical  and  aisthetical 
obligations,  about  Bismarck  and  the  civilization  of  the 
world.  His  talk  was  a  hash  of  Klaus  Baas  and  the  Ham- 
burg newspapers.  His  deductions  became  more  superb, 
his  assertions  more  sweeping.  Turning  his  wineglass 
skilfully  between  his  fingers,  —  it  was  the  first  time  in  his 
life  he  had  ever  sat  in  good  company  drinking  wine,  —  he 
said  finally  that  "  in  general "  the  government  ought  to 
guarantee  that  the  whole  matter  of  manufacturing  and 
selling  goods  would  become  really  moral  and  clean.  So 
on  he  went  a  while  longer,  with  "  in  general "  and  "  in 
general." 

His  uncle,  the  pastor,  laughed  scornfully,  looking  on  at 
this  new  miracle  coldly ;  his  wife  thought,  "  Immature  ! 
He'll  fall  on  his  nose  !  "  Suse  sat  leaning  against  the 
table,  so  that  her  full  breast  was  more  prominent  ;  she 
looked  at  him  with  great  friendly  eyes,  thinking  how  good- 
looking  he  was.  Her  fiance,  one  of  those  political  people 
who  cannot  let  other  people's  mistakes  and  opinions  alone, 
but  have  to  study  out  where  they  came  from,  then  oppose 
them,  improve  on  them,  and  finally  inculcate  their  own 
opinions,  listened  attentively,  already  working  away  on 
his  answer. 

When  Klaus  Baas  had  finally  said  his  last  "  in  general," 
the  fiance  said,  in  a  dry,  rather  suspicious  tone,  which  in 
itself  was  a  great  contrast  to  Klaus's  great  hot  words,  that 
the  views  the  young  guest  had  expressed  were  noble,  and 
quite  natural  at  his  age  ;  but  every  single  thing  and  its 
connection  with  all  other  things  had  to  be  weighed  very 
carefully,  and  was  not  to  be  judged  "  in  general."  In  the 
long  run,  all  that  could  be  expected  of  a  government  was 
that  it  should  consider  all  the  ordinary  opinions  and  efforts, 
taking  one  with  another  ;  all  that  you  could  ask  of  a  gov- 
ernment was  that  it  should  attempt,  wisely  and  persever- 
ingly,  to  direct  and  to  raise  the  standard  of  all  these 
inclinations  and  tendencies.     A  nation  was  not  like  one 


170  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

single  skilful  rider  ;  neither  was  it  like  a  wild  herd,  storm- 
ing along :  it  might  be  compared  to  a  heavily  laden  army- 
train,  for  which  the  questions  of  defence,  road  building, 
provisioning,  and  resting-place  all  required  the  most  care- 
ful deliberation.  And  the  wise  man  spoke  on,  in  his 
rather  squeaky  voice,  for  some  time. 

At  the  first  sound  of  his  well  weighed,  meditative  words, 
Klaus  Baas  had  made  the  confusing  discovery  that  he  had 
flown  far  too  high  and  had  fallen ;  then  he  was  even 
more  chagrined  to  find  that  he  had  done  it  before  a  man 
who  was  his  superior  in  study  and  experience  ;  and  worst 
of  all,  that  this  man  did  not  make  fun  of  his  big  words, 
but  argued  with  him  in  simple,  honorable  friendliness. 
Klaus  still  acted  as  if  he  were  listening  carefully  to  his 
opponent's  explanations,  and  as  if  he  were  getting  a  formi- 
dable answer  ready.  In  his  heart,  hov»^ever,  he  felt  very 
small  and  very  much  ashamed.  "  Flew  as  high  as  a  tower," 
he  was  thinking,  "  and  came  down  with  a  bang  !  Here 
I'm  flopping  with  my  wings  on  the  ground  !  I'm  absolutely 
ridiculous  !  "  When  the  other  man  stopped,  Klaus  man- 
aged to  screw  up  an  embarrassed  smile,  and  to  say  that  he 
probably  was  too  young,  and  thought  things  were  a  great 
deal  easier  to  do  than  they  were. 

When  they  left  the  table,  Klaus  stood  aside,  turning 
over  the  leaves  of  a  book,  while  he  tasted  the  full  bitter- 
ness of  his  defeat  again,  and  wished  that  he  were  far 
away.  He  slipped  along  to  the  door,  and  went  out. 
Standing  under  the  great  linden,  he  looked  out  into  the 
beautiful  evening,  pondering  bitterly  on  his  downfall,  and 
wondering  if  it  would  be  possible  to  set  himself  right  again. 

Suse,  stepping  lightly  out  of  the  door,  seized  him  from 
behind  by  both  arms  ;  standing  thus,  half  behind  him,  her 
breast  touching  him,  she  said,  in  a  friendly,  sisterly  way, 
"  Listen,  you  —  I'll  make  you  a  very  wise  proposition  !  To- 
day they're  having  the  annual  fair  in  Boosdorf  ;  they'll  have 
a  fine  time  dancing  there  to-night.  I  went  to  the  spring 
fair  with  my  sweetheart,  the  student ;  it  was  awfully 
pretty,  but  this  autumn  fair  is  prettier  still.  Our  next 
neighbor  has  two  nice   children  who  are  going  to  drive 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  171 

over.  The  boy  is  about  your  age — rather  a  rogue,  and 
he  stutters  a  little ;  the  girl  is  between  sixteen  and  seven- 
teen, just  right  for  you.  She's  a  dear,  peculiar  little  thing. 
You'll  have  to  go  by  yourself,  though." 

Klaus  Baas,  turning,  said  with  some  cheerfulness,  "But 
how  can  I  get  acquainted  with  them  ?  " 

She  looked  amused.  "  They  saw  you  come,"  she  said, 
"  and  when  you  were  in  the  garden,  Jess  —  that's  what  we 
call  her  —  was  at  the  kitchen  window  already,  to  say, 
'  Talk  him  into  going  with  us  this  evening  ;  he  strikes  me 
as  a  very  decent  fellow' — I'll  get  your  hat  and  coat." 
She  went  in  and  got  his  things  and  then  went  over  to  the 
neighbor's  wath  him. 

As  they  passed  the  open  barn  door,  they  saw  that  the 
carriage  was  ready,  and  went  straight  in.  Tha  brother 
and  sister  were  bustling  around  with  carriage  robes  and 
overcoats  that  would  be  needed  on  the  drive  home.  The 
brother  was  a  tall,  angular  fellow,  with  strong  features, 
which  were  still  rather  undeveloped ;  it  was  easy  to  see, 
however,  that  some  day  he  would  be  a  verj^  good-looking 
man.  His  sister,  though  blond  like  her  brother,  was 
much  darker  than  he  ;  her  face  was  quite  as  noble  as  his, 
but  its  soft  delicate  fulness  contrasted  sharply  with  the 
sharpness  and  angularity  of  his  face.  Her  eyes  had  a  soft, 
shy  watchfulness.  It  would  not  have  been  easy  to  find  two 
creatures  who  were  more  perfect  specimens  of  manly 
strength  and  womanly  beauty  than  these  two  were. 
Meeting  Klaus  simply  and  naturally,  they  shook  hands 
with  him,  and  said  that  it  was  nice  that  he  w^as  going 
along  ;  they  liked  to  have  company,  especially  on  the  way 
home. 

"  Now  say  '  thou '  to  each  other  right  away,"  Suse  said. 
"  What's  the  good  of  that  stiff  '  you  '  ?  " 

They  took  their  places  on  the  one  seat  of  the  carriage, 
the  girl  sitting  in  the  middle,  and  drove  gff.  As  the  seat 
was  a  little  too  narrow  for  three  persons,  Klaus  had  to  sit 
side  wise,  turned  toward  her,  with  his  arm  along  the  back 
of  the  seat,  almost  round  her.  His  healthy,  impressionable 
nature  made  him  have  a  high  opinion  of  women,  and  he 


172  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

had  never  been  so  close  to  a  pretty  girl  before.  And  so  it 
came  about,  that  when  he  had  scarcely  had  one  good  look 
at  the  soft  line  of  her  face  and  at  her  beautiful  shimmering 
eyes,  when  he  had  hardly  heard  her  speak  a  single  word, 
he  fell  in  love  with  her.  He  forgot  Suse  Garbens,  and 
disowned  her.  How  much  more  delicate  and  beautiful 
this  girl  was!  What  a  fine,  noble  face  she  had!  What 
dear,  blue  eyes!  What  tiny,  firm  hands!  What  charming 
thoughts  must  play  about  under  her  beautifully  curved 
forehead,  and  what  tender  feelings  must  have  their  home  in 
the  round  breast  that  curved  so  delicately  under  the  loose 
black  jacket ! 

Her  brother  asked  him  a  few  questions  about  what  he 
did  in  Hamburg.  In  the  meantime  she  let  her  eyes  wan- 
der over  the  beautiful  wooded  country,  letting  them  whisk 
by  him  now  and  then,  however.  Klaus  told  about  Ham- 
burg, and  then  asked  some  questions  himself,  to  show  that 
he  knew  a  good  deal  about  farming  too,  watching  as  he 
talked  to  catch  her  glances.  He  succeeded  every  time, 
and  every  time  she  turned  her  eyes  away  immediately  ; 
and  so  did  he. 

This  beautiful  old  play  went  on  for  a  good  while,  until 
the  brother,  feeling  more  assured,  began  to  tease  his  sister 
in  front  of  their  guest.  "Why  are  you  so  quiet?"  he 
asked.  "  At  home  she  talks  so  much  that  neither  father 
nor  mother,  nor  I,  her  only  brother,  can  get  a  word  in  edge- 
ways. Is  it  because  a  man  from  Hamburg  is  sitting 
beside  you  ?  You  see,  she  has  never  been  anywhere,  and 
doesn't  know  anything  about  anything,  and  you  can  make 
her  swallow  anything.  Or  is  it  that  you  don't  want  to 
let  him  see  that  you  can't  talk  quite  right  ?  You  see,  she 
has  a  little  lisp." 

He  made  fun  for  a  while  of  the  way  she  talked.  This 
seemed  all  the  more  absurd,  because  his  own  tongue  was 
rather  thick ;  in  fact,  he  stuttered  sometimes. 

She  let  him  say  whatever  he  wanted,  only  throwing  in 
a  careless,  indifferent  word  now  and  then.  Once  she 
gave  Klaus  Baas  a  shy,  swift  glance,  saying,  "  All  that  he 
says  is  lies." 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  173 

Klaus  Baas  backed  up  her  brother,  saymg,  "  But  there 
must  be  some  truth  in  it,  since  it's  your  only  brother  that 
says  it." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  looked  at  him  with  an 
inquiring  frown,  as  if  to  say,  "  Have  you  lost  your  wits 
too  ?  " 

The  brother,  who  evidently  enjoyed  what  he  was  saying, 
was  glad  to  have  their  guest  help  him  out.  "Didn't  Suse 
Garbens  warn  you  about  my  sister  ?  "  he  said. 

"  She  hinted  at  something,"  Klaus  said,  "  but  she  didn't 
want  to  say  it  out ;  so  it  must  have  been  something"  pretty 
bad."  ^ 

"  Yes,"  her  brother  said,  "  it  is  pretty  bad  and  pretty 
dangerous,  too.  Just  listen — she  looks  so  gentle  and 
meditative,  just  like  a  calf  when  it's  full  and  sleepy  ;  and 
that  soft  way  she  has  of  opening  her  eyes  and  looking  at 
you  makes  her  seem  even  more  so ;  but  I  tell  you,  there's 
a  kind  of  devil  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  and  sometimes 
he  jumps  out  suddenly.  Then  she  has  to  smash  something 
or  tear  something  up,  or  do  something  crazy." 

Klaus,  looking  at  her,  could  see  that  this  did  not  please 
her.  She  looked  straight  ahead,  with  a  fixed,  stiff  glance. 
Her  brother  was  not  disturbed  by  her  look.  "  Once,  when 
she  was  a  little  child,"  he  went  on,  "  she  got  cross  at  her 
pony  because  it  always  raised  its  head  when  she  went  to 
put  the  bit  in  its  mouth;  then  she  got  furiously  angry, 
and  bit  its  nose  so  hard  that  it  threw  its  head  up  and 
jerked  her  up  off  her  feet.  That  kind  of  a  temper,  that 
flares  up  like  that,  costs  us  a  new  window-pane  at  home 
now  and  then ;  you  can  see  how  that  would  be.  But  we 
have  the  small,  old-fashioned  window-panes  all  over  the 
house,  so  it  really  isn't  so  very  expensive." 

She  was  still  listening  quietly.  Her  eyes,  gentle  as  ever, 
wandered  over  the  fields  and  over  the  people  they  passed, 
and  sometimes  fell  on  Klaus  Baas.  She  even  turned  to 
him  once,  saying,  in  a  rather  forced  voice,  as  if  she  were 
trying  to  make  herself  joke,  "  It  amuses  my  father  and 
brother  to  tease  me.  They're  both  a  little  stupid,  so  they 
can't  entertain  themselves." 


174  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

Klaus  said  hypocritically,  "It's  very  wrong  of  your 
father  and  brother  to  treat  you  that  way.  If  I  were  your 
brother  —  I  wish  I  were  —  I'd  treat  you  like  a  little  por- 
celain statuette." 

She  tried  to  laugh,  but  did  not  succeed  very  well. 
"  You're  no  better  than  he  is,"  she  said  gloomily. 

"Well,"  the  brother  went  on,  "you'd  better  not  wish 
fate  had  made  you  her  brother  !  Why,  the  other  day,  when 
father  and  I  had  been  teasing  her  a  little  while  we  were 
having  coffee,  I  followed  her  into  her  room,  where  she  was 
changing  her  dress,  and  said  something  or  other  —  " 

He  did  not  get  any  farther.  She  started  up  suddenly 
with  an  angry  cry  ;  her  eyes  were  like  firebrands,  and  they 
could  hear  her  breath  come  and  go.  She  struck  her  brother 
on  the  head  so  hard  that  his  cap  flew  off,  snatched  the  lines 
out  of  his  hand,  and  pushed  him  aside.  Then  she  jerked 
on  the  horses  till  they  broke  into  a  gallop. 

Klaus  Baas,  who  had  been  sitting  rather  close  to  her 
while  they  were  teasing  her,  leaned  back  a  little  now,  ter- 
rified. Looking  toward  her  brother,  who  was  leaning  back 
too,  Klaus  saw  that  he  was  silent  and  a  little  pale.  He  did 
not  move,  but  looked  at  Klaus  in  anxiety,  begging  him  to 
keep  still ;  otherwise  heaven  only  knew  what  she  would 
do. 

Several  people  from  the  village,  who  knew  them,  passed 
them,  and  called  out,  "  What,  have  you  got  her  going 
again?"  Other  passers-by,  who  did  not  know  them,  looked 
with  a  laugh  at  their  carriage,  where  the  two  boys  were 
sitting  huddled  back  in  the  corners  while  the  young  girl 
was  sitting  bolt  upright  between  them,  looking  very  angry, 
and  driving  with  a  very  tight  rein.  Although  Klaus  Baas 
had  teased  her  less  than  her  brother  had,  he  took  very  good 
care  not  to  let  a  single  word  slip  out ;  he  saw  that  she  was 
blind  and  dumb  with  unreasoning  fury. 

They  all  sat  stiff  and  motionless.  Slowly,  gradually,  her 
attitude  became  less  fixed  ;  her  breath  came  more  easily  ; 
the  furrows  around  her  eyes  and  brow  smoothed  themselves 
out,  and  the  knuckles  of  her  firm  little  hands,  which  had 
got  snow-white  from  her  painful  clutch'  on  the  lines,  grew 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  175 

rosy  again.  The  others  were  still  very  careful  not  to  say 
a  word,  but  they  straightened  up  a  little,  and  exchanged 
a  silent  anxious  look. 

Klaus  did  not  see  much  of  the  pretty  country  they  were 
driving  through,  nor  did  he  notice  much  of  anything  about 
the  people  they  met,  although  they  passed  many  a  carriage 
full  of  jolly  people  coming  home  from  the  fair.  All  his 
thoughts  were  with  her ;  and,  in  spite  of  her  fit  of  anger, 
all  her  thouo'hts  were  with  him.  Klaus  took  it  as  a  mat- 
ter  of  course  that  she  would  dance  with  him  all  the  time ; 
but  she  informed  him  that  he  could  have  only  every  third 
dance,  and  that  he  must  ask  other  girls  to  be  his  partners 
the  rest  of  the  time,  so  that  people  would  not  notice  it 
too  much  and  get  angry  at  him.  So  he  had  to  look  on  and 
see  one  young  man  after  another  go  up,  make  a  more  or 
less  awkward  bow,  and  lead  her  out  to  dance ;  and  he  had 
to  look  on  while  she  talked  pleasantly  and  rather  viva- 
ciously with  her  partner,  and  while  they  asked  her  about 
him.  Every  time  that  this  happened,  her  eyes  sought  him 
out  and  gave  him  a  long,  quiet  look,  as  if  he  were  her  own 
private  property. 

Toward  midnight  the  crowd  of  dancers  grew  thinner. 
One  pair  after  another  disappeared  through  a  door.  Klaus 
asked  the  brother  where  they  were  all  going,  and  learned 
that  they  were  "going  to  drink  wine  "  —  and  then  he  remem- 
bered having  heard  that  dark,  mysterious  phrase  when  he 
was  a  child. 

Klaus  went  to  her  at  once,  and  asked  her,  with  some  trepi- 
dation, if  she  would  drink  a  glass  of  wine  with  him. 

Her  shy  glance  flitted  past  him  again  ;  then,  looking 
down,  and  moving  the  tip  of  her  shoe  about  a  little,  she 
said:  "I  have  refused  three  invitations  already.  One  of 
them  was  from  a  very  nice  fellow  ;  I've  drunk  wine  with 
him  before  ;  but  I  kept  thinking  that  you  Avould  come  and 
ask  me."     She  slipped  her  hand  into  his  arm. 

They  went  out  of  the  hall  and  down  the  stairs.  They 
looked  into  the  different  parlors,  but  they  were  all  full  of 
couples  ;  even  the  smaller  rooms  were  taken  by  two  or 
three  pairs.     In  some  rooms  they  were  sitting  around  the 


176  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

light  singing'  and  drinking  ;  in  other  rooms  they  had  put 
the  light  out  and  were  spooning. 

This  kind  of  thing  pleased  Klaus  Baas  immensely,  and 
he  wanted  to  take  part  in  it  with  his  sweetheart,  who  was 
going  along  arm  in  arm  with  him  in  such  good  humor, 
speaking  now  and  then  to  an  acquaintance.  But  they 
could  not  find  a  place.  Several  very  small  rooms,  which 
Klaus  tried  to  open,  were  locked. 

Then  they  and  several  other  couples  went  across  to  the 
inn  where  they  had  left  their  carriage.  After  a  search, 
they  found  one  little  room  still  unoccupied.  They  did 
not  try  at  all  to  hide  their  joy  when  the  other  couples, 
quarrelling,  separated  from  them  and  left  them  sitting 
with  their  bottle  of  wine  all  alone  in  the  tiny  little  room. 
The  full  moonlight  slanted  down  into  the  room  clear  to 
the  threshold.  The  window-sill  in  the  old  building  was  low 
and  very  broad,  and  they  sat  down  on  it,  silently,  too  shy 
to  talk,  Avith  their  bottle  of  wine  and  the  glasses  between 
them.  Holding  each  other's  hands  cautiously  between  the 
glasses,  they  talked  about  themselves.  The  soft  moon- 
light shone  on  their  light  hair  and  on  their  soft  young 
limbs  ;  Klaus  bent  his  head  forward,  feeling  a  strong  de- 
sire to  be  nearer  to  her.  And  so  they  talked  away  in  low 
voices,  just  as  a  man  talks  when  he  is  sitting  listening  to 
a  beautiful  melody  that  is  being  played  off  in  the  distance. 

Since  she  was  so  confidential,  Klaus  asked  her,  seriously 
and  cautiously,  what  made  her  get  so  angry. 

Leaving  her  hand  in  his,  she  answered  good-humoredly, 
"  Oh,  now  you're  asking  too  much.  My  mother  was  that 
way  too,  when  she  was  young,  till  after  her  first  baby  was 
born,  and  she  saw  how  pitiful  and  helpless  it  was,  —  you 
know  a  baby  is  lots  more  helpless  than  a  calf  when  it  is 
born,  —  and  then  she  pitied  it  so  that  she  has  never  been 
angry  since.     She  only  laughs  now  when  they  tease  her." 

"But,"  Klaus  said,  "how  does  it  come  that  everybody 
teases  you  so  ?  I  saw  that  even  some  of  your  partners 
and  the  other  girls  tried  to  stir  you  up." 

"Why  ?  "  she  said;  "  oh,  ask  the  cat  why  it  has  whisk- 
ers.    If  I  say,  '  Why  do  you  torment  me  ? '  some  people 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  177 

say,  '  Oh,  you  look  so  pleasant  and  gentle  that  people  like 
you,  and  people  tease  the  folks  they  like.'  And  others 
say,  '  Oh,  because  you  look  so  dear  and  good  that  it  makes 
a  person  wonder  whether  you  possibly  could  get  angry.' 
And  others  say,  '  Why,  we  know  that  you  do  boil  over, 
and  so  we  keep  getting  things  a  little  hotter  and  a  little 
hotter,  and  it  makes  us  creep  all  over,  wondering  just 
when  you're  going  to  boil  over.'  People  all  have  their 
peculiarities  ;  and  you  have  got  yours,  too." 

"  What  would  you  have  done,"  Klaus  said,  "  if  we 
hadn't  kept  as  still  as  mice  ?  " 

"  Oh,  something  pretty  bad,"  she  said.  "  Perhaps  I'd 
have  made  the  horses  run  away  and  throw  j'^ou  out  in  the 
ditch  —  perhaps  Pd  have  jumped  out  of  the  carriage  and 
run  home  across  the  fields.  I've  got  to  let  it  out  somehow, 
or  it  just  splits  my  head  open." 

He  held  her  hands  tighter  and  gave  them  a  friendly 
little  shake.  "  Do  you  think  you'd  be  more  rational,"  he 
asked,  "if  you  had  been  beaten  for  getting  so  angry  when 
you  were  little  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I'd  have  got  as  stiff  as  a  fence- 
post.  And  why  should  I  be  beaten  ?  Haven't  you  seen 
for  yourself  that  I'm  a  pleasant  tempered  person,  and  that 
people  like  me  ?  Is  it  my  fault  that  people  are  always 
pouring  hot  water  into  my  shoes  ?  I  really  don't  like 
getting  so  angry  ;  it's  a  miserable,  horrible  way  to  feel. 
But  there's  something  in  me  that  makes  lots  of  people 
tease  me  —  and  it's  queer,  but  it's  the  good  people,  most 
of  all.  But  Ave  aren't  sitting  here  just  to  talk  about  this 
bothersome  old  thing."  She  picked  up  the  glasses  slowly, 
as  if  she  were  unconsciously  putting  things  in  order,  like 
a  good  housekeeper,  and  put  them  on  the  table.  Klaus 
did  the  same  thing  with  the  bottle. 

She  asked  him  about  his  mother  and  the  other  children. 
Her  hand  in  his  again,  she  listened  while  he  told  her  about 
the  office  and  his  associates  there.  Enjo3ang  his  story,  she 
bent  nearer,  looking  at  him  with  pride  and  interest,  even 
with  affection. 

Letting  go  her  hand  gently,  he  stroked  her  arm  and 


178  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

shoulder,  hardly  master  of  his  desires.  A  breathless  feel- 
ing of  unspeakable  happiness  streamed  over  him  and  he 
stammered  out  how  very  dear  and  beautiful  she  was. 

She  listened  quietly  and  good-humoredly,  her  clear  eyes 
looking  all  the  while  at  his  mouth,  as  if  she  did  not  want  to 
lose  a  single  breath  from  it.  He  talked  on  in  a  low  voice, 
caressing  her  arm  and  shoulder,  and  looking  at  her  all  the 
time.  After  a  while  she  bent  her  head  forward  against  the 
window-frame,  leaning  nearer  to  him,  just  like  a  colt  hold- 
ing its  head  down  to  be  petted.  Then  Klaus  ventured 
shyly  to  kiss  her.  And  gradually  she  drew  nearer.  Lean- 
ing her  head  against  his  arm,  she  held  her  mouth  up  to 
him  speechlessly  and  artlessly.  Kissing  her,  and  drinking 
in  the  sweetness  of  her  being  with  his  eyes  as  well,  Klaus 
was  intoxicated  with  happiness  ;  his  soul  was  full  of  praise 
and  reverence  for  the  nature  which  had  created  such  pure, 
holy  beauty  and  love,  and  he  felt  unspeakably  happy  and 
thankful. 

They  said  very  little ;  they  only  looked  at  each  other 
and  exchanged  kisses.  By  and  by  he  said,  "You  mustn't 
ever  forget  me ;  swear  that  you  will  always  remember 
me." 

She  shook  her  head  calmly  —  it  was  still  resting  on  his 
arm.  "I  never  swear  at  all,"  she  said;  "I  think  it's  too 
mysterious.  And  then  I  don't  know  you  well  enough  at 
all;  and  I'm  only  sixteen." 

Klaus  was  surprised.  "  Then  why  do  you  let  me  kiss 
you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,  young  men  like  to  kiss  girls,  don't  they  ?  "  she 
said.  "Don't  the  girls  in  Hamburg  do  that?  Don't  you 
like  it  ?  And  how  can  you  get  to  know  a  man  any  other 
way  than  by  being  alone  with  him  and  kissing  him  ?  We 
all  do  it  here.  Then  the  ones  that  like  each  other  go  on 
and  get  married ;  and  the  ones  that  don't  like  each  other 
separate  and  look  for  some  one  else.  How  do  people  dare 
to  get  married,  if  they  haven't  been  kissing  each  other 
and  getting  to  know  each  other  for  at  least  a  j^ear?  " 

But  Klaus  protested  stoutly  that  he  knew  her  through 
and  through  and  loved  her  beyond  anything. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  179 

In  her  gentle,  pleasant  way,  she  shook  her  head  again, 
and  settled  it  more  comfortably  on  his  arm.  "I  won't 
promise  anything,  not  even  for  to-morrow,  still  less  for 
next  week  —  and  less  still  for  next  year.  Why,  perhaps 
I  won't  like  you  the  next  time  I  see  you  —  perhaps  you 
won't  like  me  ;  so  you  mustn't  talk  about  that  at  all." 
Holding  up  her  mouth  to  him  again,  she  let  him  caress 
her,  happy  and  composed,  in  shy,  yet  confidential  amorous 
absorption. 

After  playing  this  delightful  game  for  a  while,  Klaus 
said,  "  How  soft  your  hands  are  !  You  little  rascal,  I  don't 
believe  j^ou  work  at  all.  You  must  have  a  pretty  easy 
time  of  it  at  the  farm-house,  eh,  —  the  only  daughter,  with 
everybody  spoiling  you?" 

But  she  insisted,  as  well  as  she  could  —  for  he  was  kiss- 
ing her  all  the  time  —  that  she  worked  all  morning,  often 
all  day  ;  she  said  that  she  took  care  of  her  room  all  alone,  and 
only  yesterda}^  had  got  down  on  her  knees  and  scrubbed 
it.  She  rubbed  her  hand  against  his  to  show  him  how 
rough  it  was.  But  when  he  stuck  to  his  opinion  and  said 
that  she  was  a  little  idler  and  couldn't  do  anything  but 
kiss,  she  pulled  her  skirt  up,  and  let  him  rub  his  hand  over 
the  rough  place  on  her  knee.  "  Now  do  you  believe  it  ?  " 
she  said,  smoothing  her  skirt  down  again. 

Klaus,  almost  dumbfounded  because  she  was  so  intimate, 
wanted  more ;  he  tried  to  begin  it  cunningly,  kissing  her 
eyes  and  cheeks  more  passionately  and  pushing  aside  the 
white  lace  frill  around  her  neck. 

But  in  a  flash  she  bit  him  on  the  right  eyebrow.  Jump- 
ing up,  breathing  heavily,  she  straightened  her  clothing 
into  place  around  lier  neck  and  waist,  and  went  out. 

Klaus  stood  up,  all  at  once  very  much  horrified  and 
unhappy.  Hurrying  along  behind  her,  he  caught  up  to 
her  and  walked  along  beside  her  without  daring  to  say  a 
word.  In  the  yard  she  ordered  the  carriage  to  be  got 
ready,  and  sent  for  her  brother,  who  came  at  once. 

She  sat  down  in  the  middle  again,  seized  the  lines 
angrily,  and  drove  off  through  the  streets  of  the  town  out 
into  the  still  quiet  night.     It  had  grown  darker.     Klaus 


180  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

could  see  by  the  stiff  way  she  sat  that  she  was  not  calm 
yet,  so  he  kept  very  still.  Her  brother,  who  had  been 
ploughing  all  day,  was  so  tired  that  he  went  to  sleep. 

The  horses  began  to  put  the  lonely  straight  road  behind 
them  in  a  steady,  sturdy  trot.  There  was  a  glimmer  of 
dawn  in  the  east.  As  she  looked  out  over  the  dark  fields 
to  the  fringe  of  trees,  the  tension  of  her  spirit  and  her 
body  gradually  relaxed,  and  soon  she  said  an  indifferent 
word  or  two  about  the  horses. 

Then  Klaus  said  that  he  was  sorry.  Looking  ahead 
down  the  road,  she  said  quietly,  in  a  tone  that  had  no 
anger  in  it,  "  Oh,  that  isn't  necessary.  You  aren't  any 
different  now  —  and  if  you  are,  we  don't  like  that.  It 
just  didn't  suit  me  to  have  you  try  to  deceive  me.  If  you 
had  said  what  you  wanted  openly  and  plainly  at  the  be- 
ginning, perhaps  I'd  have  done  it.  Well  —  drop  it  now 
—  I  must  attend  to  the  horses." 

It  was  beginning  to  get  light  when  they  drove  into  the 
farm-yard.  Klaus  Baas  took  leave,  with  a  hasty  hand- 
shake, and  went  to  the  back  door  of  the  parsonage.  Suse, 
who  was  up  already,  had  heard  the  carriage  drive  in.  She 
let  him  in  and  began  to  make  the  coffee. 

Klaus  sat  down  on  the  kitchen  table  and  let  his  legs 
dangle.  "  I  tell  you  I've  had  an  experience  !  "  he  boasted. 
"  It  was  wonderful,  wonderful !  You  can't  imagine  what 
has  happened  to  me  !  " 

She  was  working  at  the  hearth,  setting  things  in  order. 
"  You  owe  that  to  me  !  "  she  said  jovially.  "  Didn't  1  say 
you'd  have  a  good  time  ?  It  was  a  good  thing  you  fell  in 
with  the  idea  —  you're  a  quick  fellow,  that's  sure  !  Who 
was  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  I  can't  tell  you  that,  of  course,"  he  said, 
"  but  it  was  wonderful.     I  can  tell  you  that  much  !  " 

She  came  over  to  the  table  with  his  cup  of  coffee.  As 
she  looked  up  at  him,  she  gave  a  short  laugh.  "  You 
don't  need  to  tell  me  who  it  was  !  "  she  said  ;  "  you've  got 
her  mark  on  your  e3^ebrow  !  "  Then  she  said,  in  a  low, 
reproachful  tone  :  "  So  that's  the  kind  you  are,  is  it  ?  And 
you're  still  so  young  !  " 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  181 

Klaus  defended  himself.  "  It  really  wasn't  anything 
bad,  Suse,  truly  it  wasn't.  I  was  just  awkward,  that's 
all.     She  was  nice  again  afterward." 

She  stood  still  awhile,  looking  at  him,  and  thinking. 
"I  had  an  experience  like  that  once  —  last  winter,  with 
the  student.     Oh,  it  was  too  beautiful  I  " 

"  Oh,  unspeakably  delicious  ! "  he  said  again,  "  un- 
speakably delicious  !  Just  think  —  so  dear,  and  so  beau- 
tiful !  " 

She  stood  near  him  while  he  drank  his  coffee.  Looking 
out  into  the  cloudy  morning,  she  said  thoughtfully, 
"  When  you  think  that  a  person  has  to  be  taught  every- 
thing else,  and  has  to  pay  a  tiresome  old  fee,  too,  isn't  it 
queer  that  you're  expected  to  learn  the  most  difficult  and 
most  important  thing  in  the  world  without  having  a 
teacher  or  paying  a  fee  ?  I'm  fond  of  him,  or  else  I 
wouldn't  have  done  it ;  but  still  it  would  be  a  great  deal 
better  if  we  learned  to  know  each  other  better  first,  if  he 
kissed  me  secretly  and  furiously  like  the  student.  How 
that  man  did  kiss  me  !  " 

She  went  back  to  the  hearth  and  worked  there  for  a  few 
minutes.  By  and  by  she  came  back  to  the  table  with  her 
coffee  and  bread.  "  But  what  will  my  father  and  mother 
say  about  that  swollen  eyebrow  of  yours,  oh,  you  bitten 
hero  ?  " 

Klaus  felt  his  eyebrow.  He  scolded  at  the  crazy  girl, 
and  then  he  laughed.  But  in  a  minute  he  orew  dubious. 
"  Perhaps  it  would  really  be  better,  Suse,"  he  said,  "  if  I 
slipped  off  right  away  while  it  is  still  early." 

She  laughed.  "  Tha,t  would  be  just  the  way  it  was  five 
years  ago,"  she  said, 

Klaus  was  annoyed.  "  I'd  have  liked  so  much  to  spend 
the  day  here,"  he  said.  "  It  sticks  in  my  mind  that  Sat- 
urday I've  got  to  put  the  soldier's  uniform  on ;  I'd  have 
forgot  it  most  easily  here." 

'•'•  I'd  have  liked  to  keep  you,"  she  said,  "  you  can  believe 
that.  And  my  sweetheart  likes  you,  too ;  he's  coming 
back  about  the  middle  of  the  morning." 

It  seemed  to  Klaus,  however,  that  he  could  withdraw 


182  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

with  some  dignity  if  he  went  now.  He  ran  up  to  the 
attic  room,  packed  his  bag,  and  said  good-by  hastily. 
Standing  in  the  broad,  sandy  road,  he  threw  one  long  look 
toward  the  comfortable  farm-house  where  the  hot-tempered 
girl  was  asleep.  He  had  left  the  last  houses  of  the  village 
behind  him  before  day  had  fully  come. 

Then  next  evening"  he  went  to  the  artist's  to  see  whether 
she  had  come  back  from  her  summer  trip.  He  found  her 
at  home,  and  had  supper  with  her.  When  she  expressed 
surprise  at  his  cheerfulness  and  assurance,  he  said  that 
being  at  home  again  and  seeing  the  people  there  had  done 
him  a  great  deal  of  good.  After  a  while  he  said,  "  Say, 
Aunt  Laura,when  a  person  falls  in  love  happily,  that  must 
be  magnificent.  It's  a  pity  that  you  never  knew  anything 
about  it." 

She  stared  at  him  with  her  mouth  open.  "  You  little 
fool,"  she  said ;  "  how  do  you  know  that  I  never  knew 
anything  about  it  ?  I  ?  Why,  you  stupid  youngster,  I've 
heard  the  angels  in  heaven  sing  !  " 

He  stared  at  her.  "  Oh,  Aunt  Laura,"  he  said,  in  real 
joy,  "  how  glad  I  am  !  " 

"  Well! ''  she  said,  "isn't  that  kind  of  you!  And  now  I 
know  why  you're  in  such  good  spirits  !  Seeing  the  people 
at  home  did  you  so  much  good  ! " 

He  blushed,  and  laughed. 

But  as  he  was  walking  home,  it  depressed  him  to  think 
that  apparently  it  was  possible  for  even  a  person  who  had 
had  such  a  beautiful  experience  and  had  passed  such  un- 
speakably happy  hours,  to  become  as  quiet,  as  sad,  as 
lonely  as  Aunt  Laura  was ;  and  this  discovery  made  him 
cherish  his  own  beautiful  experience  more  silently  in  his 
soul.  Now  and  then,  however,  its  soft,  fine  voice  sounded 
out  louder  than  the  sharp  harsh  word  of  command  at  the 
barracks. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

Klaus  entered  the  barracks  on  Zeise  Strasse  with  a 
good  sound  physique.  He  had  in  his  bearing  that 
audacity  peculiar  to  the  Baases.  His  body,  though  rather 
flabby  at  first,  soon  grew  harder.  Both  the  corjDoral  and 
the  lieutenant  liked  the  skilful,  ready  young  man  very 
well  indeed. 

But  when  the  first  drill  was  over,  and  the  service  had 
become  somewhat  easier,  the  corporal  noticed  that  the 
neat  young  merchant  held  aloof  a  little,  that  he  had  several 
books  in  his  chest,  and  that  the  lieutenant  sometimes  gave 
him  a  pleasant  nod.  That  irritated  him  ;  he  Avas  an  un- 
usually small-souled  person,  and  consequently  was  forced  to 
make  friends  with  the  stupid  fellows.  Now,  whenever  the 
room  had  to  be  cleaned,  he  put  Klaus  Baas  at  the  dirtiest 
corner;  and  after  drill,  when  everybody  was  sitting  on 
his  chair,  leaning  back  against  his  chest,  reading  or  sleep- 
ing, if  he  saw  Klaus  reading  a  book,  he  would  attack  him 
roughly:  "Youfeellikeamillionnairealreadj^eh?  You've 
got  to  serve  for  two  years,  just  like  everybody  else.  I'll 
show  you,  do  you  understand  ?  '-'  And  then  he  would  give 
him  some  task  to  do  that  was  always  unpleasant,  often  in- 
sulting, sometimes  altogether  senseless ;  and  with  it  all  he 
was  cunning  enough  not  to  go  too  far,  so  that  he  could 
always  defend  himself  to  the  lieutenant,  if  Klaus  Baas 
should  complain.  So  the  months  passed,  almost  unendur- 
ably.  Klaus  was  a  good  shot ;  he  kept  the  books  for  the 
marksmanship  officer,  and  as  he  stood  well  with  him  and 
the  lieutenant,  he  hoped  to  be  made  exempt,  in  spite  of  the 
corporal's  hostility. 

By  and  by  the  manoeuvres  came.  Klaus  enjoyed  them 
very  much.     They  marched  through  many  a  Holstein  and 

183 


184  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Mecklenburg  village,  sometimes  in  high  spirits,  sometimes 
worn  out,  now  wet,  now  dusty ;  sometimes  they  went 
about  in  masses,  sometimes  in  secret  night  patrols.  Sev- 
eral times  Klaus  was  told  off  to  lead  a  patrol ;  he  penetrated 
far  ahead  without  being  discovered,  made  a  clear  report 
of  what  he  had  seen,  and  felt  surer  than  ever  now  that  he 
would  be  made  exempt. 

Fate,  however,  did  not  mean  him  to  reach  that  rank 
by  military  deeds  alone.  On  the  last  day  of  the  manoeuvres 
he  was  quartered  in  a  Lauenburg  village,  at  the  house  of 
a  sickly  little  cotter,  somewhat  off  the  road  to  the  village. 
It  happened  that  the  only  cow  on  the  common  was  going 
to  have  a  calf  there.  As  there  was  no  time  to  waste,  the 
cotter  woke  the  soldier,  dead  tired  though  he  was,  and 
begged  him  to  help.  Klaus  got  up  immediately,  and  tak- 
ing a  lantern,  some  salt,  a  cloth,  and  a  wisp  of  straw,  went 
out  into  the  black  rainy  night  and  stood  by  to  help.  The 
night  patrol,  noticing  the  light  on  the  lonely  common, 
came  up  to  see  what  it  meant,  the  first  lieutenant  himself 
in  the  lead.  They  found  the  soldier  bending  over  the 
calf,  rubbing  it  off  with  wisps  of  straw,  the  sweat  running 
down  his  face.  The  little  cotter,  afraid  his  soldier  might 
get  into  trouble,  praised  Klaus's  skill.  But  the  first 
lieutenant  praised  it  too.  "  We  need  people  that  aren't 
afraid  to  act  and  that  are  handy  at  all  sorts  of  things.  You 
will  be  made  exempt." 

So  Klaus  went  more  cheerfully  back  to  the  barracks. 
But  then  the  indoor  work  began.  The  whole  day  he  had 
to  brush  trousers,  count  and  pack  them,  and  look  after  the 
buttons.  A  violent  longing  for  freedom  came  over  him; 
he  longed  for  books,  for  a  chance  to  throw  himself  earn- 
estly into  his  work. 

It  tormented  him  to  think  that  he  would  have  to  spend 
a  second  year  in  this  way,  when  those  of  the  men  who  had 
been  able  to  get  a  better  education  than  his  would  be  free 
to  go  wherever  they  chose.  He  looked  around  carefully 
for  some  way  of  changing  the  situation. 

One  Sunday,  when  he  was  going  to  his  mother's,  he 
met  a  corporal  from  the  district  headquarters  whom  he 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  185 

had  often  met  before.  The  man  came  up  to  him  and 
told  him  that  years  before,  when  he  was  a  mere  youngster, 
he  and  Klaus's  father  had  worked  for  the  same  company 
at  tearing  down  okl  houses,  and  that  Jan  Baas  had  pro- 
tected him  several  times  from  rough  usage  by  the  other 
workmen.  He  was  glad  to  know  the  sou  of  the  man  that 
had  been  so  kind  to  him. 

Klaus  Baas  puckered  liis  forehead,  and  did  some  quick 
thinking.  "If  my  father  did  something  for  you  once," 
he  said,  "perhai3S  you  can  do  something  for  me  now." 
He  told  him  what  bad  terms  he  was  on  with  his  corporal. 
The  man  agreed  at  once  to  see  what  he  could  do.  Several 
weeks  later,  he  managed  to  get  Klaus  transferred  to  the 
office  at  the  district  headquarters,  using  his  good  hand- 
writing as  a  pretext. 

Klaus's  captain,  who  would  have  been  glad  to  have  this 
sturdy,  skilful  soldier  at  the  front,  was  very  much  annoyed 
when  he  found  that  he  was  going  to  lose  him.  Without 
waiting  to  investigate,  he  said  that  Klaus  had  drawn  up  a 
petition  and  sent  it  in  without  informing  him.  He  shouted 
out  across  the  yard  to  ask  whether  Baas  hadn't  got  into 
some  trouble  or  other,  so  that  he  could  lock  him  up  for  a 
week.  "At  your  orders,"  Klaus  Baas  said,  adding  that  he 
had  not  sent  in  any  petition.  The  captain  cried  that  he 
was  glad  Klaus  had  said  that ;  he  would  look  into  the  case 
and  find  out,  and  lock  him  up  for  a  month  in  the  meantime. 
After  that,  however,  he  took  no  further  interest  in  the 
affair;  he  was  a  weak  man,  wIk)  did  a  great  deal  of  loud 
talking  to  keep  people  from  finding  it  out. 

So  now  Klaus  worked  in  the  bare  office  at  headquarters 
on  Smissen  Alice.  Deftly  he  wrote  out  furloughs,  requests 
to  be  sent  back,  and  lists  of  reserves.  He  and  the  ser- 
geant major,  a  sensible  family  man,  talked  about  all  sorts  of 
things  —  the  cost  of  meat,  social  democracy,  going  to 
church,  bringing  up  children.  As  Klaus  was  free  now  in 
the  afternoons,  he  determined  to  put  his  liberty  to  some 
good  use.  He  bought  English  and  Spanish  grammars,  and 
borrowed  books  in  both  those  languages,  as  well  as  books 
about  trade.     He  took  his  meals  and  slept  at  home. 


186  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

He  made  up  his  mind  to  begin  work  at  once.  Sunday- 
afternoon,  as  he  was  sitting  in  the  sitting-room,  taking  his 
first  look  at  his  new  books,  and  listening  to  Hanna,  who 
was  talking  about  her  school,  the  door  suddenly  opened, 
and  Kalli  Dau  walked  in. 

He  had  on  a  brand  new  suit,  wore  a  glistening  white, 
tight  collar,  and  had  just  been  shaved.  He  looked  almost 
solemu.  He  shook  hands  with  everybody,  even  the  young- 
est children,  and  then  sat  down  in  the  chair  by^  the 
table.  He  had  got  in  yesterday  noon,  he  said,  on  the 
Susanne  from  Iquique,  and  had  spent  the  night  at  Mother 
Kindt's  on  Hopfen  Strasse.  Flinging  his  cap  on  the  table, 
and  shoving  aside  the  pile  of  books  Hanna  had  lying  there 
with  an  expression  of  contempt,  he  began  to  scold  vigor- 
ously. "  I've  got  to  go  to  the  School  of  Navigation !  There's 
no  other  way  out  of  it.  When  you  get  down  to  it,  you 
can't  stand  going  to  sea  before  the  mast  all  your  life.  But 
I  tell  you,  I'd  rather  scrape  rust  off  for  nine  years  than  go 
to  that  damned  school  for  nine  months  !  "  Sticking  four 
fingers  down  his  neck,  he  tugged  vigorously  at  his  collar 
and  gave  the  pile  of  books  another  shove. 

Klaus  Baas,  very  much  surprised,  was  glad  that  Kalli 
had  come  to  this  conclusion. 

"  I've  heard,"  he  said,  "  that  the  teachers  at  the  School 
go  to  work  very  cautiously  with  you  fellows,  Kalli  ;  they 
handle  you  as  if  you  were  made  of  glass.  If  they  didn't, 
you'd  all  lose  your  minds,  because  you  aren't  used  to 
studying.  I  did  hear  once  that  a  whole  class,  who  had  just 
come  from  sea,  were  so  upset  by  having  all  their  ideas 
turned  upside  down,  that  the  teacher  sent  them  up  to  the 
observatory  ;  and  up  there,  where  you  get  a  good  look  out 
around  over  the  Elbe  and  the  country,  they  recovered 
themselves  and  got  their  wits  back  again.  I  don't  think 
you  really  need  to  be  afraid,  Kalli." 

Kalli  Dau  didn't  find  much  consolation  in  this  story^ 
"  It  isn't  just  the  School,"  he  said,  still  downcast ;  "  there's 
more  than  that  in  it."  With  a  great  tug,  he  pulled  out 
an  old  embroidered  wallet,  and  spread  out  its  contents  — 
receipts  for  the  new  suit  and  for  his  shoes,  and  five  hun- 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  187 

dred  marks  in  German  banknotes.  He  counted  them  over 
three  times  with  his  big  yellow,  tarry  hands,  and  then 
said,  "  I  could  live  on  that  all  right  for  nine  months,  but  I 
couldn't  pay  the  tuition  and  buy  the  damned  books  and 
maps.  And  if  I  don't  go  crazy  doing  it,  I'll  need  a 
sextant  when  I  get  out."  He  put  the  receipts  and  the 
notes  together  again  very  particularly,  and  stowed  them 
away  so  weightily  that  they  did  not  know  what  to  say. 
"  Well,  there  isn't  anything  else  to  do,  Klaus,"  he  said  ; 
"  I've  got  an  old  great-uncle,  or  something  like  that,  in 
Blankenese.  When  I  came  home  from  Canada  and  left 
that  German  bark,  he  told  me  that  he'd  help  me  if  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  go  to  the  School.  I've  got  to  go  to  the  old 
man's,  and  I'm  going  to  —  you've  got  to  come  along." 

Klaus  Baas  said  good-by  forthwith  to  his  books,  and 
reached  for  his  sword  and  cap.  Then  he  and  Kalli  went 
to  Blankenese. 

All  through  the  trip  Kalli  Dau  sat  back  glum  in  a 
corner  ;  sometimes  he  stuck  his  fingers  down  his  neck  and 
jerked  at  the  collar,  to  which  he  was  not  used.  Once  he 
said,  "  I  never  bothered  myself  about  the  old  man    again 

—  he'll  turn  me  right  out,  of  course."  Then  he  tried  to 
study  things  out:  "  What  relation  am  I  to  him,  anyhow  ? 
My  grandmother  — his  sister  —  did  she  have  a  brother  — 
or  was  it  a  son  ?  Oh,  I  don't  know  —  the  thing's  all 
mixed  up." 

Klaus  Baas  stared  at  him,  amused,  curious  to  see  how 
the  thing  would  turn  out.  "  You  must  be  very  polite, 
Kalli,"  he  said. 

Kalli  Dau  looked  out  of  the  window.  "  Do  you  think," 
he  said  contemptuously,  "  that  I'm  likely  to  go  at  him 
hammer  and  tongs,  and  say,  '  Hay  there,  hello,  old  fellow, 

—  how  are  you?  '  " 

When  a  fine-looking  woman  got  into  their  compartment, 
Kalli  Dau  pulled  his  legs  in  carefully  out  of  her  way. 

"  You've  got  politer,  Kalli,"  Klaus  Baas  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "  since  you  threw  your  sack  at  that  old  woman's 
feet,  —  do  you  remember  ?  " 

"Shut  up!"  said  Kalli  Dau,  gloomily.      "What  did  I 


188  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

bring  you  along  for  ?  You  set  your  wits  to  work  and 
think  up  what  we'd  better  do  to  keep  the  old  man  from 
turning  us  out."  He  grabbed  at  his  neck  again  and 
struggled  for  breath.  To  relax  his  mind  a  little,  he 
began  to  talk,  ra,ther  more  cautiously  than  in  the  streets 
around  the  Grossneumarkt  in  the  old  days,  with  the 
woman  who  had  got  in.  Soon  he  was  in  the  midst  of 
explaining  to  her  how  incredibly  stupid  the  cabin-boy  on 
the  Susanna  was,  and  how  the  people  in  the  Azores,  men 
and  women  alike,  all  wore  straw  hats,  something  like 
southwesters.  And  then  she  told  him  how  her  first  grand- 
daughter was  getting  along  at  school. 

Going  down  to  the  beach,  they  asked  where  the  old  man 
lived,  and  found  the  house.  The  walls  of  the  little  garden 
running  ujd  from  the  beach  had  just  been  whitewashed ;  so 
had  the  railing  along  the  walk  up  to  the  house ;  so  had 
the  benches  in  front  of  it,  and  the  trunks  of  the  little 
fruit  trees  ;  and  so  had  the  little  house  itself.  The  thin 
little  old  man,  who  had  just  got  everything  so  painfully 
white,  was  sitting  on  the  white  bench,  the  white  pail  of 
whitewash  still  in  front  of  him  and  the  brush  in  his  hand, 
resting  a  little  ;  he  looked  as  if  he  might  be  going  on  to  do 
himself  next ;  his  thin  hair,  that  was  blowing  about  in  the 
fresh  wind,  was  white  to  begin  with. 

They  went  up  the  walk.  Kalli  Dau  made  his  speech, 
reached  into  his  pocket,  and  spread  out  his  five  banknotes 
and  the  receipts. 

The  old  man  raised  his  somewhat  stubborn,  stupid  face 
rather  stiffly,  and  took  a  good  look  at  Kalli  Dau.  Then 
he  said,  meditatively,  "  Go  into  the  kitchen  and  ask  my 
granddaughter  if  she'll  take  you.  She  does  the  house- 
keeping, and  has  all  the  trouble  of  it.  She's  Captain 
Dreyer's  daughter,  my  dead  daughter's  husband  ;  he's 
sailing  off  the  Chinese  coast  now." 

Kalli  Dau  stufPed  his  papers  in  again  and  went  in  the 
door,  shaking  his  head.  A  rather  delicate  girl,  thin  like 
a  Frisian,  and  yellow  haired  and  freckled,  was  bustling 
about  in  the  kitchen.  She  looked  up,  surprised  to  see  the 
broad  sailor  and  the  tall  soldier.      Kalli  Dau  told  her  who 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  189 

they  were,  and  said,  "You  and  I  have  met  before  —  seven 
or  eight  years  ago ;  your  name  is  Mariechen.  Tlie  old 
man  out  there  has  offered  to  let  me  live  here  for  the  nine 
months  I'm  at  the  School.  But  the  work  will  all  fall  on 
you,"  he  said. 

She  looked  them  both  over  again  from  head  to  foot ; 
then  she  said,  with  the  quiet  security  of  possession,  "  It 
doesn't  make  any  difference  about  the  little  bit  of  extra 
work.  Go  upstairs  and  take  a  look  at  the  room  in  the 
attic;  if  it's  good  enough  for  you,  you  can  eat  and  sleep 
here  for  all  I  care."  She  pointed  up  the  stairs  with  a 
wave  of  the  utensil  she  was  scouring. 

They  obediently  clattered  up  the  narrow  stairs  to  a  tiny 
little  room,  which,  of  course,  was  whitewashed  over  and 
over.  It  was  just  big  enough  to  hold  a  table,  a  chair,  and 
a  bed  with  a  red  cover. 

Kalli  Dau  shut  the  door,  sat  down  on  the  bed,  and  took 
a  good  look  around  the  room.  "  Well,  so  this  is  where 
I'm  to  sit  over  a  lot  of  books  for  the  next  nine  months  !  " 
he  said.  "  And  when  I  get  half  crazy  at  it  and  go  down- 
stairs, that  little  Jimmy  Fix  will  be  in  the  kitchen,  and 
the  old  man  in  the  garden.  My,  but  they're  both  thin  ! 
The  food  on  the  Susanne  was  bad  enough,  heaven  knows; 
but  here,  I  might  just  as  well  hang  my  stomach  up  on  the 
line  to  dry  !  Did  you  notice  the  tea  that  was  standing  in 
front  of  the  old  man  ?  You  could  see  bottom  through 
thirty  fathoms  of  it."  He  took  hold  of  the  wobbly  table 
and  gave  it  a  cautious  shake.  "  Then,  hearing  the  girl 
coming  up  the  stairs,  he  let  go  the  table,  tugged  at  his 
collar,  and  pulled  in  his  feet. 

"  Is  the  room  good  enough?  "  she  asked  curtly. 

He  nodded.  "  Oh,  never  mind  —  it's  quite  good 
enough."  Looking  out  the  window,  against  which  a  fresh 
breeze  was  blowing,  he  said  pleasantly,  "  I  see  you  got 
some  handkerchiefs  out  on  the  line  —  aren't  you  afraid  old 
daddy  will  blow  away  from  you?  He  looks  awfully  thin 
to  me." 

She  leaned  against  the  door,  looking  at  him  with  a  re- 
sentful air.     "  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  say  '  old  daddy '; 


190  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

you  ought  to  say  '  grandfather,'  like  me.     That  would  be 
much  better." 

He  nodded.     "  Oh,  all  right,"  he  said. 

"  He's  nice  old  man,"  she  said.  "  If  you  fall  in  with  his 
ways,  he  won't  lay  anything  in  your  way." 

"  Have  I  got  to  fall  in  with  your  ways  too  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  the  housekeeping  goes,"  she  said. 

"  You  tend  to  the  housekeeping,  do  you?" 

"  Why,  of  course,"  she  said ;  "who  else  would  ?  I  do  all 
the  work.  Am  I  to  wait  supper  till  you  get  ready  to 
come  down  from  Haupt  Strasse  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  forget  what  you  said  then,"  he  cried  ;  "  what 
you  said  about  supper  —  do  you  really  have  supper  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  angrily.  "  Just  you  tend  to  getting 
along  at  the  School,  and  I'll  make  you  fat  !  And  I've  no 
more  time  to  waste  now." 

Kalli  Dau  looked  after  her,  stared  around  the  room 
again,  and  said,  more  cheerfully,  "  Well,  everything's 
gone  well  enough  so  far.  But  that  way  she  has  of  looking 
down  on  you  is  pretty  bad — the  little  worm." 

When  they  went  downstairs  again,  they  found  her  in  the 
hall,  putting  on  her  jacket.  Klaus  Baas  helped  her  politely, 
and  asked  where  she  was  going.  To  get  a  friend,  she  said,  and 
then  to  Friedrich's  to  a  dance;  did  they  want  to  go  along? 

Of  course  they  did. 

They  went  up  the  hill  to  Haupt  Strasse  and  through  the 
inn  to  the  dancing  hall.  At  the  entrance  Kalli  Dau  met 
an  acquaintance  who  had  been  studying  at  the  School 
for  several  months  ;  he  asked  him  about  one  thing  after 
another,  frowning  anxiously  all  the  time.  Klaus  Baas 
danced  with  Mariechen,  and  sang  Kalli's  praises.  "  You 
must  consider  that  he's  been  before  the  mast  for  seven 
years,"  he  said,  "  and  all  these  years  he  has  been  abroad, 
and  never  in  a  neat,  proper  house.  You  see,  he  has  no 
father  or  mother." 

She  listened,  looking  around  the  hall.  "Do  you  see 
that  tall  man  over  there  ?  "  she  cried,  bursting  into  a  laugh. 
"  That  one  with  the  dangling  legs  !  He  looks  like  a  pair  of 
hot  tongs  I  " 


KLAUS   HLXRICH   BAAS  191 

Klaus  Baas  found  the  one  she  meant,  recognized  him, 
and  called  and  waved  to  him.     It  was  Heini  Peters. 

Heini  Peters  stopped  and  came  sliding  across  the  floor, 
coat  tails  flying,  to  his  old  acquaintance,  whom  he  had 
not  seen  for  a  year.  He  introduced  Fraulein  Ella,  his 
thin  little  partner,  whose  artfully  curled  hair  stood 
out  all  around  her  head.  While  Fraulein  Ella  was  talk- 
ing rather  superciliously  with  Mariechen,  Heini  Peters 
said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  am  glad  to  have  you  meet  her. 
She's  a  charming  girl  !  I  spent  two  hours  with  her  not 
long  ago  in  the  cemetery  at  Ohlsdorf,  —  hours  of  conse- 
cration. Baas  !  I  never  met  any  one  before  that  had  so 
real  an  understanding  of  the  holiness  and  beauty  of  the 
place." 

Klaus  Baas  had  spent  this  last  year  among  practical, 
efficient  people  ;  and  besides,  he  had  outgrown  Heini 
Peters.  So  he  asked,  rather  condescendingly,  why  Heini 
wasn't  in  England,  where  he  had  meant  to  go. 

Heini  Peters  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said,  rather 
gloomily,  in  a  lowered  voice,  "  I  was  in  Manchester  for 
two  months.  Baas  ;  but  I  don't  know  —  whether  I  was 
homesick  for  the  old  gentleman  —  I  mean  my  father — or 
whether  it  was  his  fault ;  he  wrote  for  me  to  come  home, 
if  I  didn't  like  it.  You  see,  I  am  the  only  child.  Baas. 
So  I've  given  up  going  abroad  ;  and  besides,  it  would  be 
absolutely  impossible  now  for  me  to  leave  this  charming 
creature.  I'm  in  Ernst  P.  Haken's  oflice  now  —  it's  only 
a  modest  little  place.  But  you  were  always  going  to  visit 
my  old  home.  Baas  —  my  father  and  mother  would  be  glad 
to  have  you  come  some  day." 

Klaus  Baas  said,  in  a  cool,  dignified  way,  that  he  would 
be  glad  to  come  some  day,  but  that  first  he  had  to  serve 
this  year,  and  then  he  wanted  to  go  abroad  at  once. 

Then  Mariechen,  in  her  gentle  voice,  put  in  that  she 
hadn't  come  here  to  gossip  ;  she  wanted  to  dance  once 
more  and  then  go  home  to  get  supper.  She  took  Klaus's 
arm  ;  Heini  Peters,  with  his  Ella  on  his  arm,  flew  past 
them,  blissfully  happy,  his  long,  thin  legs  working  like  a 
whirlwind,  and  both  sides  of  his  long  coat  waving. 


192  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

Then  they  went  down  to  the  beach  again  and  had  sup- 
per in  the  clean,  pleasant  little  kitchen. 

This  day  pleased  Klaus  Baas  immensely  ;  he  didn't 
get  at  the  books  he  had  borrowed  right  away.  Any  one 
who  has  ever  gone  around  with  a  class  of  navigation 
students  in  Blaukenese  knows  how  pleasant  it  is  to  saunter 
with  them  up  on  Haupt  Strasse  or  down  along  the  beach, 
talking  about  girls  and  ships  and  foreign  lands  and  stars. 

When  the  day's  work  in  the  office  was  done,  Klaus 
couldn't  stand  it  at  home  with  his  books  and  his  mother. 

Sometimes  he  stood  waiting  at  the  Altona  station,  look- 
ing over  toward  the  small  iron  gate,  —  the  pillar  of  which 
always  has  a  black  spot  on  it,  which  comes  from  having 
shag  pipes  knocked  out  against  it,  —  until  the  sailor  lads 
burst  out,  emptying  the  ashes  out  of  their  pipes  and  filling 
them  again.  Talking  and  scolding,  they  came  across  the 
the  street,  with  their  big  charts  and  piles  of  books.  Every- 
body knows  how  different  classes  are,  how  some  slip  along 
close  to  the  walls,  and  cower  in  their  rooms,  and  how 
others  simply  rule  the  town  ;  but  never  was  there  such 
a  magnificent  class  as  this  before  —  from  its  members' 
point  of  view,  of  course.  All  of  them  had  gone  to  sea  on 
sailing  vessels  for  five  or  six  years  and  had  met  here  and 
there  ;  three  of  them  had  been  on  the  same  ship  for  three 
years,  first  to  South  America,  and  then  to  East  Africa  ; 
and  once,  in  the  harbor  of  Iquique,  where  three  German 
barks  lay  anchored  in  a  row  for  three  months,  five  out  of 
the  eleven  in  the  class  had  got  up  a  sort  of  singing  club, 
and  had  sung  so  well  that  the  whole  harbor  and  city  had 
kept  still  to  hear  them.  They  all  wore  blue  suits,  and 
pulled  their  soft  sailor  caps  far  down  on  their  heads. 

After  they  had  got  their  work  done,  they  lighted  their 
pipes,  left  their  rooms,  and  walked  up  and  down  Haupt 
Strasse  or  on  the  beach,  talking  about  their  work,  about 
Taifun,  Iquique,  or  Melbourne,  about  the  customs  of 
people  at  home  and  abroad,  about  captains  and  cabin-boys, 
the  imperial  marine,  and  the  Yankee  coast.  They 
swaggered  along,  laughing  and  talking  at  the  tops  of 
their  voices  as  if  Haupt  Strasse  belonged  to  them.     If  it 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  193 

was  a  particularly  nice  evening, — and  the  late  autumn 
evenings  never  were  more  beautiful  than  in  this  year,  — 
and  if  old  Matties,  who  taught  this  class,  had  told  them 
to  come  back  in  the  evening  to  learn  a  few  more  stars, 
they  never  went  near  him,  but  stayed  down  on  the  beach 
all  evening,  and  then  next  morning  told  him  that  in  Blank- 
enese  it  had  been  cloudy.  They  stayed  together  sometimes, 
sometimes  went  in  groups,  usually  with  several  pretty 
Blankenese  girls. 

Klaus  got  into  a  regular  habit  of  going  to  Blankenese 
as  early  and  as  often  as  he  could.  He  leaped  down  the 
steps  to  the  beach,  and  pulled  Kalli  Dau  away  from  his 
distances  and  equations.  Then  they  and  the  other  stu- 
dents walked  up  and  down  Haupt  Strasse  or  along  the 
beach,  even  when  a  cutting  east  wind  was  blowing  or 
when  a  cold  wet  mist  lay  over  everything.  When  the 
group  separated  by  and  by,  so  that  each  student  could 
talk  with  his  sweetheart  for  a  while,  Klaus  always  took 
the  delicate  little  Mariechen  with  him.  After  they  had 
walked  on  for  a  while,  he  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed  her. 
Then,  although  he  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to  ask  for 
anything  more,  and  not  to  stir  up  any  strife,  he  was 
always  led  on  by  lier  sweetness  and  by  the  charm  of  her 
red  mouth,  to  ask  for  more.  He  pressed  her  hard.  Seiz- 
ing his  good-for-nothing  hands,  she  tried  to  hold  them  still, 
but  it  was  of  no  use ;  he  did  not  stop  until  she  cried  anx- 
iously, "  Oh,  please  don't  do  it  any  more  !  I  can't,  and  I 
won't !  "  And  then  she  began  to  cry.  Then  Klaus  was 
sorry ;  he  patted  her,  tried  to  quiet  her,  and  blamed  him- 
self, and  they  went  back  to  join  the  others. 

Every  Sunday  evening  they  went  out  to  dance.  Kalli 
Dau  did  not  know  how  to  dance,  but  he  learned.  In  his 
simple-minded  way,  he  put  his  whole  soul  into  it,  and 
practised  literally  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  His  worst 
trouble  was  that  his  left  leg  moved  with  a  queer  trouble- 
some jerk,  that  always  tore  his  partner's  skirt.  But  they 
all  advised  him  so  well  that  finally  he  learned.  The  girls 
were  adroit  and  charming,  and  the  first  violin  played  won- 
derfully.   The  slow  open  dances  were  coming  in  again;  and 


194  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

the  dances  at  Friedrich's  had  never  been  carried  on  with 
such  inspiration  before,  and  they  never  will  be  again. 
Heini  Peters  came  over  every  Sunday ;  he  held  up  in  his 
left  hand  his  empty  cigar-holder,  ornamented  with  a  great 
ivory  elephant,  and  kept  time  with  it. 

The  students  kept  themselves  and  their  girls  very  much 
to  themselves.  They  made  Klaus  Baas  welcome,  however, 
because  he  had  come  with  Kalli  Dau,  and  because  he  soon 
sliowed  that  he  could  understand  them.  Klaus  enjoyed 
tremendously  being  with  these  cheerful  young  men,  who 
were  astute  and  experienced  far  beyond  their  years,  and 
who  looked  around  rather  distrustfully  at  all  they  saw. 
It  made  Klaus  prick  up  his  ears,  and  in  going  around  with 
them  he  got  a  good  deal  of  sound  knowledge  of  people. 
For  weeks  he  let  himself  drift  along  comfortably  in  this 
way.  Like  the  old  philosophers  who  discussed  the  founda- 
tions of  the  world  while  they  were  walking  up  and  down, 
Klaus  was  extending  his  knowledge  of  the  world  while  he 
was  strolling  up  and  down  Haupt  Strasse  or  down  on  the 
beautiful  sounding  beach.  And  then  one  day  he  discov- 
ered that  his  money  was  gone.  The  daily  trips  in  the 
train  and  the  daily  glass  of  beer  had  exhausted  his  scanty 
little  purse. 

He  emptied  it  out  on  the  kitchen  table.  Seeing  that  he 
still  had  tifteen  groschen,  and  realizing  that  now  he  must 
either  starve  or  be  a  burden  on  his  mother,  he  sat  for  a 
while,  looking  meditatively  at  the  little  pile  of  silver  in 
front  of  him.  He  walked  up  and  down  thinking,  "  What 
now  !  Tliat's  the  end  of  Blankenese  !  "  and  like  the  wicked 
steward  in  the  Bible,  he  cried  out,  "  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Suddenly  something  struck  him.  He  raked  the  fifteen 
groschen  into  his  hand,  went  straight  off  to  the  office  of  a 
big  newspaper,  and  paid  for  an  advertisement  offering  to 
attend  to  bookkeeping  and  to  English  and  German  cor- 
respondence for  a  merchant  in  the  afternoons.  As  he  went 
home  again,  he  thought,  "  Well  !  if  you  are  successful, 
you  can't  go  so  often  to  Blankenese,  for  one  thing  ;  and 
for  another,  you'll  have  some  money  when  you  do  go  ;  and 
in  the    tliird   place,  you'll  have   more   work,  which  will 

N 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  195 

be  very  good  for  you  ;  "  and  he  felt  quite  edified  by  his 
action. 

Two  days  afterward  he  received  several  answers  from 
the  office.  The  one  that  pleased  him  best  came  from  a 
varnisli  factory  in  Miihlen  Strasse.  Curious  to  see  how 
it  would  turn  out,  Klaus  went  there  at  once. 

It  was  an  old  Hamburg  house,  narrow,  high,  dark  from 
smoke  and  dust,  and  yet  it  had  a  genuine  individual 
charm.  The  door  had  a  good,  old-fashioned  shape.  When 
it  opened,  rattling  and  clattering,  a  bell  hanging  on  a 
steel  spring  above  it  rang  clear  and  high.  To  the  right 
of  the  door  was  a  broad,  deep  bay  window,  the  principal 
window  of  the  house ;  the  window  at  the  left  was  small 
and  narrow.  The  door  opened  into  the  long  narrow 
hall,  which  ran  back  to  a  window  on  the  court.  A 
thin,  elderly  little  man  sat  at  that  window  on  a  wooden 
stool,  with  old  boots  and  pieces  of  leather  around  him, 
mending  shoes.  Klaus  soon  learned  from  the  dealer's 
daughter  that  this  cobbler  had  been  one  of  her  mother's 
suitors,  and  consequently  a  rival  of  her  father  when  they 
were  all  young.  But  he  had  always  been  of  a  shy,  effemi- 
nate nature  and  the  other  suitor  had  carried  off  the  girl, 
without  wasting  words,  while  he  had  looked  on  quietly. 
His  reverence  for  the  woman,  however,  had  lasted.  After 
her  marriage  he- had  come  with  his  miserable  little  cob- 
bler's outfit  to  live  in  her  house.  He  mended  shoes  for 
the  neighborhood,  and  did  the  houseboy's  work  as  well ; 
he  brought  up  from  the  station  the  casks  of  varnish  com- 
ing from  the  factories,  mixed  and  prepared  the  varnish, 
and  delivered  it  to  city  customers  on  a  Scotch  wheelbar- 
row, or  sent  it  off  by  mail.  As  the  years  had  rolled  along, 
his  love  had  subsided,  and  finally  died.  The  woman  he 
loved,  having  grown  too  stout  to  move  around  easily  alone, 
sat  all  day  at  the  great  bay  window,  embroidering  and 
.  looking  down  at  the  busy  street  ;  and  he  sat  at  the  little 
low  window  on  the  court,  mending  shoes.  Several  times 
a  day  she  came  to  the  steps  at  the  door,  to  go  through  the 
house;  then  he  got  up  to  lead  the  clumsy  woman  around 
on  his  arm  ;  and  neither  of  them  seemed  to  see  the  other. 


196  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

At  one  side  of  the  cobbler's  bench  was  a  moderately- 
large  room  that  held  a  desk  and  table,  both  covered  with 
piles  of  accounts,  receipts,  and  account-books.  The  rest 
of  the  floor  was  covered  with  varnish  casks  of  all  sizes. 
The  proprietor  of  the  shop,  a  squat  elderly  man,  whose 
hair  and  beard  were  always  in  disorder,  had  burrowed 
around  for  years,  growling  at  the  confusion  ;  sometimes 
he  straightened  out  one  thing  or  another,  but  almost  every- 
thing lay  there  topsyturvy.  As  his  business  had  grown, 
it  had  become  more  and  more  necessary  for  him  to  go  out 
to  see  his  customers,  so  that  often  he  was  not  at  the  desk 
for  days  at  a  time.  The  disorder  had  kept  growing 
greater,  until  at  last  it  had  got  altogether  beyond  him. 
Then  he  left  the  room,  banging  the  door  behind  him,  and 
saying  that  it  would  make  him  crazy  ever  to  go  into  that 
room  again.  Pale  with  irritation,  he  sat  down  with  his 
newspaper — and  saw  Klaus  Baas's  advertisement. 

So  now  Klaus  Baas  was  standing  at  the  desk.  He 
shoved  all  the  piles  of  papers  off  it,  and  set  to  work  hunt- 
ing and  arranging,  counting,  recording.  He  worked  with 
the  zeal  of  people  who  cannot  endure  to  look  at  disorder, 
and  who  forget  where  they  are  and  what  time  it  is  getting 
to  be  in  sorting  out  and  rooting  around  as  if  they  were 
possessed,  until  at  last  they  see  order  around  them.  After 
a  month's  work  Klaus  could  show  the  discontented  little 
man  that  everything  was  in  order.  He  showed  him  where 
to  find  everything,  and  explained  the  condition  the  busi- 
ness was  in.  And  it  was  in  very  good  condition.  The 
little  man  made  very  sure  of  this,  and  was  so  delighted 
that  he  gave  his  young  assistant  in  the  blue  uniform  an 
extra  gold  piece.  After  he  had  talked  to  Klaus  for 
several  days,  and  had  also  made  sure  that  a  two-mark 
piece,  left  as  if  by  chance  near  a  pile  of  accounts,  was 
found  and  handed  in,  he  felt  really  liberated  from  great 
anxiety,  and  went  out  light-heartedly  to  visit  his  customers. 

But  now  Klaus  Baas  was  no  longer  alone  in  the  room. 
After  he  had  been  working  for  a  while,  the  shopkeeper's 
daughter  came  in  to  bring  liim  some  coffee.  She  brought 
along  the  novel  she  was  reading,  and  said  that  she  liked 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  197 

this  rear  room  better  than  the  front  one  ;  and  besides,  it 
wasn't  any  fun  to  be  with  an  old  woman  all  the  time. 
She  was  a  pallid  little  old  maidish  person,  who  read  one 
detective  story  after  another  ;  these  stories  of  varied  oc- 
currences and  vivid  experiences  supplied  something  that 
her  own  narrow  little  soul  would  always  lack.  But  now 
she  soon  let  the  book  drop  into  her  thin  lap  and  talked 
away  about  how  afraid  she  had  been  at  first  of  Klaus 
Baas  ;  for  having  anything  to  do  with  young  men  was  a 
pretty  dangerous  thing  nowadays.  But  now  that  her 
father  had  told  her  how  capable,  industrious,  and  steady 
Klaus  Baas  was,  she  liked  to  keep  him  company  for  a 
while.  Then  she  told  him  the  story  of  her  father  and 
mother  and  the  old  shoemaker,  and  about  their  property 
and  their  friends,  and  about  her  only  brother,  who  was 
managing  a  little  enterprise  of  his  own  out  in  a  suburb, 
and  who  never  came  home,  because  he  wanted  to  marry  a 
young  girl  living  next  door,  a  stupid  young  thing,  who 
sometimes  went  past  the  window.  When  he  finally  cut 
short  her  weak,  colorless  talk,  she  said  suddenly  that  she 
would  be  willing  to  confide  everything  to  him,  even  the 
most  secret  feelings  she  had,  and  so  he  could  be  quite  open 
with  her.  He  looked  down  with  quiet  contempt  on  the 
poor,  meagre-looking  thing,  thinking,  "  What  sort  of 
secrets  could  you  have  !  "  She  was  vexed  at  the  hardness 
of  this  youth,  who  called  her  brother's  sweetheart,  when 
she  went  by  the  window,  a  pretty  little  thing,  and  nodded 
to  her. 

Gradually  she  saw  clearly  that  there  was  no  hope  for 
her.  And  perhaps,  anyway,  her  dislike  for  her  brother's 
sweetheart  was  greater  than  the  inclination  of  her  withered 
old  heart  toward  the  handsome  bookkeeper  in  the  blue 
uniform.  One  day  she  declared  in  tears  that  she  was  sure 
that  her  brother's  sweetheart  was  not  true  to  him,  and 
that  the  thousrht  of  it  made  her  miserable.  Herr  Baas 
would  really  be  doing  her  a  great  favor  if  he  would  try  to 
make  love  to  the  wild  little  thing,  just  to  try  her. 

The  little  girl  had  a  pretty,  agile  figure,  that  made  her 
look  like  a  weasel  running  across  the  yard,  and  her  eyes 


198  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

were  good  and  childlike.  The  task  appealed  to  Klaus's 
vanity.  His  conscience  demurred  a  little,  but  he  appeased 
it  by  persuading  himself  that  with  all  her  shyness  the 
little  thing  was  probably  a  fickle  enough  little  butterfly, 
since  she  looked  so  cordially  in  at  him  through  the 
window  ;  and  besides,  she  could  never  be  anything  but 
unhappy  with  her  lover,  who  was  just  as  shaggy  and 
grumpy  as  his  father. 

And  so,  at  twilight,  in  spite  of  the  damp  cold  winter 
weather,  he  opened  the  window  when  she  was  passing  by, 
to  exchange  a  friendly  word  with  her.  By  the  next  day 
they  were  standing  at  the  outer  door,  talking  in  simple- 
hearted,  youthful  fashion  about  her  home  village  among 
the  beech  woods  of  Eastern  Holstein,  about  her  friends, 
and  picnics  and  dances  she  had  been  to.  Without  saying 
a  word  about  her  relation  to  the  son  of  the  house,  she 
talked  along  to  Klaus  in  a  wise,  grandmotherly  way. 
He  did  not  care  for  it  ;  and  her  looks  weren't  to  his 
taste,  either,  for  she  was  soft  and  dark.  Nevertheless,  he 
put  himself  out  to  win  the  shy  little  thing's  confidence, 
and  boasted  to  the  bad  old  maid  that  he  would  have  a  kiss 
from  her  before  the  week  was  out. 

When  she  came  the  next  evening,  he  at  once  took 
advantage  of  the  dreary,  rainy  mist  to  ask  her  for  a  kiss. 
He  asked  it,  impelled  simply  by  an  overweening  vanity, 
without  a  speck  of  real  desire  for  it.  "  Just  one  !  "  he 
said,  "  Why,  we're  such  good  friends  !  You  love  me  a 
little,  don't  you  ?     Just  one  !  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  soft,  dark  eyes,  and  trusted 
him,  — good-hearted  little  creature  that  she  was.  "  Well, 
then,  just  one,"  she  said,  "  and  then  never  again  !  "  And 
she  stayed  quiet  in  his  arm. 

In  a  second  the  withered  old  mischief  was  right  beside 
them.  Fairly  choking  with  venom,  she  poured  forth  all 
her  scorn  and  hate  on  the  child.  And  she  finally  told  her 
that  Herr  Baas  had  been  in  league  with  her. 

As  the  little  creature  leaned  there  against  the  door,  her 
big  dark  eyes  looked  as  if  they  were  gazing  at  snakes 
ready  to  strike.     Casting  one  horrified  look  at  Klaus,  she 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  199 

slipped  silently  away,  looking  exactly  like  a  pretty  little 
weasel. 

After  the  thing  was  done,  his  wretched  trifling  with  the 
trusting  little  girl's  soul  struck  deep  into  Klaus's  heart. 
He  went  home  to  his  room  with  a  deep  conviction.  "This 
can't  go  on  !  All  this  chasing  around  Blaukenese,  and 
now  this  last  bit !  What  a  shameless  thing  —  to  betray  a 
little  thing  like  that !  And  to  do  it  out  of  nothing  but 
overbearing  arrogance  ! "  No,  it  couldn't  go  on  !  He 
would  work  now,  work  like  mad !  —  work  till  he  saw 
and  heard  nothing  but  his  work  !  And  he  certainly  needed 
to  work,  for  think  how  far  behind  he  was.  Did  he  want 
to  have  to  expose  himself  to  ridicule  again,  as  he  had  done 
last  year  at  the  parsonage?  Wouldn't  he  have  to  grind 
to  catch  up  to  those  that  had  gone  to  the  high  schools? 
Ah !  he  had  had  another  attack  just  like  that  he  had  had 
eight  years  before,  except  that  that  one  had  lasted  two 
days,  and  this  one  eight  weeks.  And  then  his  mother  had 
boxed  his  ears,  this  time  they  had  boxed  themselves. 
"  We'll  just  choke  this  life  and  these  goings-on  right  here," 
he  thought.  "You're  going  to  work,  you  clown.  Where  ■ 
are  the  books  ?  Oh,  here  you  are  !  "  He  piled  them  on 
the  floor  in  front  of  his  bed,  so  that  he  couldn't  help  stum- 
bling over  them  when  he  came  in  the  next  day.  Then 
with  set  teeth,  and  with  many  a  reproachful  shake  of  the 
head,  he  Avent  to  bed. 

And  now  began  a  period  of  strenuous  study,  attended 
by  resolute  zeal  and  puzzled' speculation.  If  he  didn't 
plunge  head  over  heels  in  work,  he  was  convinced  that  he 
would  never  know  anything,  that  he  would  never  get  any- 
where, and  that  he  couldn't  forget  the  women. 

When  he  had  finished  work  in  the  dismal  room  in  Miihlen 
Strasse,  he  went  back  to  the  office  and  threw  himself  on 
the  pile  of  books  he  had  stowed  away  in  his  drawer,  in  spite 
of  the  sergeant's  grumbling.  With  only  a  dry,  scanty  little 
supper,  he  sat  there  till  late  at  night,  reading  commercial 
law,  perusing  a  thick  volume  on  England's  trade  and  colo- 
nies, and  studying  languages. 

He  had  very  little  gift  for  languages  —  a  sad  state  for  a 


200  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

merchant.  Although  in  his  apprenticeship  he  had  had 
daily  opportunities  to  read  and  hear  English  all  around 
him,  he  had  picked  up  very  little.  Indeed,  he  doubted 
whether  he  could  ever  learn  it ;  for  he  thought  that  he 
would  have  to  learn  by  heart  every  single  sentence  and 
phrase,  and  learning  by  heart  was  hard  for  him.  For 
hours  at  a  time  he  walked  back  and  forth,  repeating  to 
himself  over  and  over  again  what  he  had  been  reading. 
And  half  in  anger,  half  in  fun,  he  assumed  different  voices 
as  he  recited,  made  strange  gestures  with  his  head  and 
hands,  and  tried  in  every  possible  way  to  get  the  strange 
language  really  going  right.  He  did  the  same  thing  with 
Spanish.  When  he  had  put  a  good  deal  of  time  on  the 
languages,  he  sat  up  till  late  at  night  over  the  old  yellow 
books  —  over  all  those  works  which  because  of  their  sim- 
plicity and  beauty  are  handed  down  from  generation  to 
generation  —  Homer  and  Sophocles,  Shakespeare,  Goethe 
and  Schiller.  Klaus  was  reading  them,  not  because  his 
nature  craved  them,  nor  because  they  are  wonderful  pres- 
entations of  truth  and  beauty,  —  he  was  too  immature  and 
restless  to  feel  that,  and  moreover,  rather  inclined  by  na- 
ture to  work  out  things  for  himself ;  he  was  reading  them 
because  he  regarded  them  as  things  to  be  learned  and 
known.  And  he  brought  to  his  task  the  understanding, 
the  sturdy  gravity  of  a  young  fellow  anxious  to  extend  his 
education.  Among  the  yellow  volumes  were,  unfortu- 
nately, included  writers  who  didn't  belong  there  at  all,  but 
who,  on  the  other  hand,  deserved  to  be  forgot.  Neverthe- 
less, since  they  were  right  there  with  the  others,  Klaus 
Baas  studied  them  with  the  same  intensity  and  zeal.  Once 
in  a  while  he  read  volumes  of  history  and  science,  and 
occasionally  some  of  the  later  poets,  recommended  to  him 
by  some  one  whose  judgment  he  trusted.  It  was,  in  all, 
a  varied,  confused  assortment.  And  he  kept  at  it  till  mid- 
night, when,  tired  to  death  by  the  long,  silent  day's  work, 
he  went  to  bed. 

And  now,  when  he  was  twenty-two,  his  nature  really 
developed.  All  this  confused  reading  may  have  helped, 
or  the  hard  work  he  was  doing,  or  the  experiences  he  had 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  201 

had  ;  or  it  may  simply  have  been  that  the  right  time  had 
come.  For  whatever  reason,  his  nature  took  definite 
shape,  showing  a  happy  combination  of  the  gayety  and 
kindliness  of  his  father  and  the  firmness  and  loyalty  of 
his  mother.  And  it  was  time  that  the  stupor  that  had 
hung  like  a  mist  over  his  youth  should  be  dissolved.  When 
it  passed,  he  seemed  to  see  far  more  deeply  into  things, 
and  to  see  life  in  far  more  varied  colors.  Up  to  this  time 
be  had  observed  men  and  things  only  as  they  came  in  his 
way ;  now  he  began  to  investigate,  searching  out  and 
following  up  everything  with  due  amazement.  The  in- 
tense spirit  that  had  been  lying  passive  for  almost  two 
years  began  to  grow  clearer,  and  to  work  itself  forward  in 
great  strides. 

He  had  not  really  perceived  the  development  of  this 
Baas  nature  of  his  in  the  events  of  his  past  life  ;  it  was 
simply  there,  developing  of  its  own  accord.  But  he  was 
quietly  amazed  now  as  he  surveyed  first  the  little  scrub 
he  had  been,  then  that  thin,  fanciful  schoolboy,  and  that 
tall,  saucy  apprentice.  Sceptically  enough,  he  followed  up 
every  leap  and  turn  in  the  career  of  this  creature  who  had 
turned  out  so  differently  at  different  times.  He  regarded 
critically  the  place  he  held  in  the  world,  and  thoughtfully 
estimated  his  chances.  In  short,  instead  of  being  simply 
a  dull  liver  of  his  life,  he  became  a  critic  of  it. 

Up  to  this  time  he  had  thought  very  little  about  his 
mother  beyond  realizing  that  .she  was  there  all  the  time, 
was  sometimes  in  his  way,  and  sometimes  of  use  to  him ; 
and  that  she  was  looking  out  for  the  whole  establishment, 
and  doing  it  well,  too.  But  now,  as  he  stood  by  the 
kitchen  window  watching  her,  he  pondered  about  her  life 
with  the  Baases,  her  sorrow  for  her  dead,  and  her  long, 
hard  work  every  day.  And  seeing  in  a  new  way  her 
early  widowhood,  the  crooked  lines  of  her  back,  and  the 
gray  hair  around  her  temples,  he,  in  spirit,  took  his  stand 
beside  her  to  help.  His  little  brothers  and  sisters  had 
hitherto  concerned  him  very  little  ;  they  were  his  mother's 
lookout,  he  had  reckoned,  if  lie  thought  of  them  at  all. 
Now  he  began  to  occupy  himself  regularly  about  how  they 


202  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

spent  their  time,  what  kind  of  characters  they  were  devel- 
oping, and  what  they  were  preparing  to  be.  He  per- 
ceived that  Hanna,  now  in  her  second  year  at  the 
seminary,  was  fast  becoming  a  woman,  and  he  covertly 
assured  himself  that  she  came  straight  home  from  school, 
that  she  looked  calm  and  peaceful,  and  that  her  hair  was 
smooth.  The  little  Blankenese  girl  was  always  pulling 
at  her  locks  and  braids  and  saying,  "  My  goodness,  my 
hair!  "  Fritz  was  learning  to  be  a  locksmith,  and  was 
going  at  night  to  the  trades  school.  Klaus  questioned 
him  closely  about  what  times  his  lessons  came,  and  what 
way  he  went  back  and  forth.  Then  several  times  he 
waited  opposite  the  building,  and  followed  Fritz  to  make 
sure  he  went  straight  home.  Little  twelve-year-old  Jo- 
hann  couldn't  help  noticing  that  his  big  brother  had  taken 
to  supervising  his  studies,  and  giving  him  short  directions. 
Little  Lotte  received  only  fatherly  pats  on  the  head.  His 
mother,  amazed  at  his  decided,  exacting  manner  and  at 
his  thoughtful  voice,  now  answered  his  questions  consider- 
ately, and  sometimes  consulted  him  about  this  or  that. 

When  he  recalled  his  experience  in  the  office,  he  seemed 
to  see  the  men  and  the  work  more  clearly  there,  too. 
Many  things  that  had  at  the  time  seemed  to  him  strange 
or  wrong,  he  now  understood.  He  felt  that  he  would  like 
to  have  a  part  in  a  business  like  that  again,  directing  his 
intelligence,  discretion,  and  ambition  not  only  toward  his 
own  daily  work,  but  toward  the  interests  of  the  whole 
concern,  which  he  would  forward  by  his  energy  and  in- 
^■ight.  He  thought  of  looking  around  for  a  good  position 
.ibroad,  where  he  could  see  something  new,  study  and 
work  hard,  and  get  on  a  little. 

And  thus  this  season  of  impartial  observation,  of  grave 
reflection,  of  discreet  misgiving,  of  calm  judgment,  and  of 
self-improvement,  was  bringing  him  to  manhood. 

But  he  was  not  a  gay,  happy-go-lucky  man.  His  eyes 
were  too  grave  for  two-and-twenty,  and  the  lines  of  his 
mouth  too  tight.  Now,  when  after  a  hard  day's  work  he 
went  to  Blankenese,  on  a  Sunday  evening  in  late  spring, 
and  the  pretty,  slim  girl  walked  a  way  with  him,  he  was 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  203 

considerate  in  his  tenderness,  and  restrained  his  passion. 
But  she  didn't  like  that,  either. 

"  You  are  so  cold!  "  she  said.  "  Before  Easter  you  were 
much  nicer." 

He  rebuked  her  grimly.  "  What  do  you  want  me  to 
do,  you  little  fool?  If  I  take  hold  of  you,  you  make  a 
face  as  if  I  were  going  to  eat  you,  and  begin  to  cry." 

Her  head  sank.  They  tried  to  talk  about  something 
else,  but  since  they  didn't  dare  to  grow  tender,  their  souls 
remained  silent  and  cold. 

"  You're  always  so  quiet,  Baas  ;  you're  working  yourself 
to  death,"  said  the  corporal  that  worked  beside  him.  '  'You 
ought  to  go  to  St.  Pauli  once  in  a  while,  man,  and  relax  your 
heart  and  body.     But  maybe  you  think  that's  a  sin?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  it's  a  sin,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  looking 
up  from  his  work.  "  What  are  young  people  to  do  with 
the  need  that  besets  them?  But  I  am  not  going  there. 
I've  heard  a  good  deal  and  read  a  good  deal  about  all  that, 
and  I'm  not  going  to  lay  up  in  a  few  hours  a  disease  that 
will  last  a  lifetime.     Besides,  it's  too  dirty  for  me." 

"  Well,  you're  right,  of  course,"  said  the  corporal,  *'  but 
what's  a  fellow  to  do?     I  couldn't  stand  it." 

"  It's  certainly  hard,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  curtly,  going 
resolutely  on  with  his  work. 

There  were,  to  be  sure,  hours  and  days  at  a  time  when 
the  Baas  in  Klaus  made  him  see  himself  in  brilliant  colors  ; 
he  was  not  falling  down  in  the  mud,  not  he ;  and  he  was 
certainly  as  industrious  as  a  man  could  be.  He  pic- 
tured to  himself  magnificently  how  he  would  go  abroad 
and  do  big  things  there,  and  then  come  back  and  pick  out 
the  prettiest  girl  in  the  country  for  his  wife.  She  would 
have  a  sort  of  swinging  walk  and  unspeakably  pure  lovely 
eyes.  All  these  speculations  made  him  fairly  drunk  with 
happiness.  But  far  oftener  he  was  downcast,  silent,  and 
bitter.  Often  at  supper  time,  when  Hanna  was  busy 
around  the  hearth,  and  he  was  standing  by  the  window, 
frowning  at  the  old  lamp,  with  its  sorry,  weak  little  light, 
he  felt  bitterly  that  his  life  was  very  like  old  Sara,  dreary, 
smoky,  weak,  and  uncertain. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

One  wet  September  evening,  shortly  before  he  was  dis- 
missed from  the  service,  Klaus  was  going  home  from  a 
trip  he  had  made  to  apply  for  a  position.  A  little  set  up 
by  the  idea  that  the  head  of  the  big  firm  had  received  him 
and  listened  to  him  kindly,  he  was  walking  along  in  his 
vigorous,  energetic  way  —  exactly  as  his  forefathers  had 
walked  in  Heisterberg  —  through  Wex  Strasse,  now  alive 
with  the  usual  evening  throng.  Suddenly  he  saw  a  plain, 
elderly  woman  carrying  several  parcels  cross  the  street 
and  slip  on  the  muddy,  slippery  stones.  Thinking,  per- 
haps incorrectly,  that  she  couldn't  help  being  run  over  by 
a  big  wagon  that  was  coming,  Klaus  made  a  dash  for  her. 
In  doing  so,  he  fell  heavily  himself,  striking  his  head  so 
hard  against  the  curb  that  he  lost  consciousness.  As  he 
lay  there  in  the  mud  with  a  crowd  gathering  round  him, 
his  brother  Fritz,  happening  along  from  the  shop,  recog- 
nized him  by  his  mole-colored  hair.  Kind  arms  carried 
him  into  the  flat,  where,  after  several  hours,  he  came  to. 
His  head  ached  furiously,  and  he  felt  generally  confused 
and  sick. 

The  next  day,  when  the  sick  spell  had  subsided,  Hanna 
told  him  that  Karl  Eschen  had  been  there  to  ask  how  he 
was.  Klaus  didn't  quite  understand  her,  but  the  sound  of 
the  name  gave  him  an  indistinct  sense  of  pleasure,  and  he 
fell  asleep  again.  Feeling  as  if  a  dull  low  sky  were  press- 
ing down  on  his  head,  he  dragged  himself  in  his  dreams 
along  the  wide  stretches  of  his  life.  Sitting  on  the  old 
church  wall,  all  bent  over  because  the  sky  was  pressing  so 
low  on  him,  he  tliought  that  he  was  trying  to  talk  to  Liese 
Lachmann,  but  wasn't  getting  along  very  well.  Then  he 
was  beside  Lotte's  bed,  kneeling  so  low  that  he   could 

204 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  205 

hardly  see  her  face.  And  then  this  thin^  pressing  down 
on  him  was  squashing  him  into  the  muddy,  yellow  Elbe, 
while  Peter  Soot  looked  on  in  silence.  Then  he  seemed  to 
be  so  small  that  he  couldn't  manage  to  push  away  the  foot 
pretty  little  Tuddi  and  Sanna  had  planted  on  his  neck  in 
front  of  the  hotel  on  the  Neue  Jungfernstieg.  And  Avhen 
after  all  this  he  woke  up,  with  his  head  a  little  clearer,  his 
eyes  carefully  sought  out  the  figures  of  his  mother  and  the 
others,  and  followed  every  motion  they  made  with  a  joy 
he  had  never  felt  before.  To  the  helpless  boy  who  had 
been  aimlessly  wandering  around  in  the  monstrous  mazy 
land  of  dreams,  these  real  people  of  his,  with  their  loyalty 
and  love,  seemed  unspeakably  delicious. 

In  her  anxiety  not  to  be  dependent  upon  her  children 
in  her  old  age,  Antje  Baas  was  out  for  every  cent  she 
could  earn.  To  that  end,  she  had  rented  a  little  room 
with  one  window,  adjoining  the  bedroom,  but  opening  only 
into  the  hall,  and  she  planned  to  let  it  to  some  modest 
lodger.  At  first  the  business  venture  did  not  seem  to 
promise  well,  and  she  would  have  been  glad  to  give  up  the 
whole  thing.  The  first  lodger,  a  middle-aged  man,  had 
made  eyes  at  the  fine-looking  woman  with  the  neatly  parted 
hair,  and  had  been  promptly  sent  off.  The  second  was 
disposed  of  because  he  had  too  little  linen  and  too  irregu- 
lar habits.  A  third  paid  his  rent  three  days  late.  Next 
came  a  young  chimney-sweep,  a  straight,  stiff  kind  of 
fellow.  In  strange  contrast  to  his  dark  calling,  he  brought 
with  him  a  scrupulously  clean  little  outfit  —  you  might 
almost  say,  an  exhibit.  His  linen  was  irreproachable. 
And  his  bureau  was  covered  with  all  kinds  of  bright 
gimcracks  and  ornaments,  which  he  kept  shiny  by  most 
solicitous  rubbing.  A  more  beautiful  shine  than  he  gave 
was  never  seen  on  shaving  outfit  or  ash  tray  ;  and  never 
was  clock  or  lamp  more  exquisitely  polished.  Since,  in 
accordance  with  his  precision  and  delight  in  shininess,  he 
led  a  life  of  the  utmost  regularity  and  solidity,  Antje  Baas 
liked  him.  She  was  indeed  so  well  satisfied  that  she  did 
not  allow  herself  to  be  shaken  even  when  her  youngest 
boy,  whom  she  discovered  at  the  chimney-sweep's  keyhole, 


206  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

excused  himself  by  saying  that  all  the  time  the  chimney- 
sweep was  polishing  his  chattels,  he  jumped  around  the 
room  in  the  queerest  kind  of  way,  so  that  a  fellow  simply 
had  to  stay  and  watch  him.  The  boy  got  a  hard  box  on 
the  ears,  and  the  lodger  remained  in  high  favor.  Antje 
Baas  reasoned  that  what  he  did  in  his  room  was  his  own 
business,  and  that  was  what  he  rented  the  room  for ;  she 
had  no  call  to  interfere  with  him,  and  she  M^anted  no  inter- 
ference from  any  one  else.  But  the  next  year  the  chimney- 
sweep fell  in  love  with  and  married  a  girl  —  a  servant 
somewhere  on  the  Gansemarkt.  It  could  hardly  have  been 
otherwise,  for  she  was  the  cleanest  and  tidiest  serving-maid 
in  Hamburg ;  and  that  is  saying  a  great  deal.  Her  black 
dress,  white  apron,  and  cap  were  unutterably  clean.  She 
seemed  to  use  a  soap  that  gave  her  cheeks  a  kind  of  high 
finish  ;  and  her  eyes  were  certainly  of  polished  glass,  moved 
by  some  mechanical  device.  Hanna,  who  set  a  good  deal 
of  store  by  cleanliness  herself,  and  who  secretly  liked  the 
little  man  in  spite  of  his  jumps  during  the  polishing  pro- 
cess, could  appreciate  his  choice.  The  only  thing  that 
surprised  her  was  that  he  hadn't  waited  till  he  found  one 
made  of  silver,  set  here  and  there  with  crystal. 

After  he  left,  Antje  Baas  got  a  small,  dark-haired  man 
who  suited  her  exactly,  and  who  lived  in  the  little  room 
for  years,  although  his  rent  was  not  always  forthcoming. 
He  came  from  an  old  Schleswig  family  w'hose  peculiarities 
had  often  spread  excitement  throughout  the  neighborhood, 
once,  indeed,  throughout  the  whole  kingdom  of  Denmark. 
For  instance,  his  grandfather,  a  teacher  of  some  reputation, 
married  a  widow  when  he  was  rather  getting  along  in 
years.  Then,  as  is  not  unusual,  he  developed  a  great 
fondness  for  women  — a  fondness  belated,  certainl}',  but 
violent.  So,  when  his  wife  began  to  fade,  he  cast  his  eyes 
toward  her  daughter  by  her  first  marriage,  whom  she  had 
brought  to  his  house.  With  the  naivete  of  the  original 
Adam,  he  one  day  wrote  a  letter  to  the  king,  asking  whether 
he  might  marry  his  stepdaughter;  his  wife,  he  said,  viewed 
the  idea  favorably.  He  received  an  answer  telling  him  he 
must  leave  the  realm  within  three  days.     For  a  while  he 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  207 

lived  abrotul,  but  he  finally  returned  to  his  home,  an  old 
man  with  smiling  eyes.  This  man's  grandson,  Antje  Baas's 
lodger,  a  silent,  gentle  fellow,  was  a  servant  and  man  of  all 
work  in  his  native  village.  Then  it  occurred  to  him  that 
he  would  like  to  be  a  missionary  in  the  service  of  the  Lord. 
Two  pious  congregations  on  the  Schleswig  heath,  for  his 
sake  and  the  sake  of  lost  heathendom,  raised  enough  money 
to  provide  him  with  a  scanty  education.  Regularly  or- 
dained by  the  provost,  and  provided  with  parting  bless- 
ings and  ready  money,  he  set  off  for  India,  where  for  several 
years  he  filled  his  position  without  offence.  Then  there 
was  a  change,  the  cause  of  which  it  is  difficult  to  fix.  It 
may  be  that  his  education  was  too  superficial,  or  that  it 
had  been  bungled.  It  may  be  that  he  had  inherited  too 
much  of  the  old  Adam  from  his  grandfather.  He  may 
have  been  one  of  those  people  that  do  not  really  find  them- 
selves until  they  are  past  thirty.  Or  it  may  be  that,  weak 
and  soft  as  he  was,  those  dark  people  with  the  big  soft 
gleaming  eyes  pleased  him  pretty  well  as  they  were. 
Whatever  the  reason,  he  began  after  several  years  to  write 
very  strange  letters  back  home.  He  wrote  that  now,  in 
the  light  of  the  Indian  sun,  he  saw,  far  more  clearly  than 
he  had  ever  seen  before,  the  Christianity  they  had  back 
there  in  Torupp  and  Haudebiill ;  and  that  he  was  perfectly 
convinced  there  was  no  real  truth  in  it,  either  scripturally 
or  humanly.  Where  in  those  villages  was  there  a  man 
who  would  let  any  one  box  his  ears,  as  the  Saviour  clearly 
and  expressly  commanded  ?  And  where  was  the  man  that 
would  give  away  his  coat  and  then  his  cloak  also,  as  he 
was  just  as  clearly  told  to  do  ?  Or  where  was  there  a 
man,  who,  like  Paul,  was  going  to  Hamburg  to  reform  that 
Sodom  by  his  preaching?  And  could  an}^  one  there  cure 
a  single  disease  ?  Well,  and  even  aside  from  all  that, 
they  were  all  envious,  or  arrogant,  or  unjust  to  each  other, 
usually  all  of  these  things  at  once,  and  they  weren't  a  speck 
better  than  the  heathen  he  was  supposed  to  be  converting. 
The  typical  righteous  man  in  Torupp,  he  wrote  in  another 
letter,  imagines  that  by  going  to  church  a  hundred  times 
and  saying  a  thousand  prayers,  and  giving  thirty  marks 


208  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

to  missions,  he  has  struck  an  agreement  with  the 
Ahnighty.  So  he  lives  along,  comfortable  in  the  belief 
that  all  the  rest  are  going  to  hell  fire,  and  looking  con- 
descendingly on  the  poor  heathen,  converted  by  means  of 
his  money.  But,  he  wrote,  all  that  was  going  to  turn  out 
very  differently.  All  these  digs  at  the  congregation,  and 
even  at  God  himself,  might  after  all  have  been  endured, 
for  they  could  have  been  regarded  as  exhortations  to  re- 
pentance, in  which  people  will  swallow  a  good  deal.  But 
at  last  he  even  descended  to  attacks  on  the  provost,  to 
whom,  on  account  of  his  stout  little  figure,  he  referred  in  his 
letters  with  absolute  disrespect  as  "Little  Fatty."  He 
wrote  that  the  provost,  so  far  from  being  an  individual, 
actually  managed  to  be  German  and  Danish,  have  liberal 
and  old  church  views,  be  pious  and  worldly,  servant  and 
lord,  all  at  the  same  time.  And  he  said  that  the  provost's 
puffed-up  air  belonged  a  good  deal  more  to  a  fool  than  to  a 
minister  of  the  gospel.  Finally,  in  that  same  letter,  he 
said  that  he  thought  that  God  and  the  world  were  much, 
much  larger  than  they  ever  dreamed  over  there  at  home 
between  Jlibeck  and  Tondern.  There  they  made  God 
into  a  querulous,  foxy  compromiser.  But  he,  over  there  in 
India,  had  seen  the  sparkle  of  God's  eyes  in  the  gleam  of 
the  Indian  sun,  and  his  dreaming  love  in  the  eyes  of  the 
heathen  children.  On  the  receipt  of  this  dreadful  letter 
a  hasty  despatch  was  sent,  dismissing  this  black  sheep  from 
service  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  Since  the  money  from  home 
stopped  too,  he  drifted  about  in  one  way  or  another  from 
harbor  to  harbor,  and  finally  got  back  to  Hamburg — where 
he  became  a  lodger  in  Antje  Baas'sroom,  and  supported  him- 
self precariously  by  giving  piano  lessons  to  simple  people. 
In  addition  to  this,  his  nephew,  a  tall  young  craftsman 
from  Kiel,  who  regarded  him  with  pity  and  amazement, 
sometimes  brought  him  food  and  a  little  money.  He  had 
certainly  been  getting  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  mysteries 
of  the  heathen  he  had  once  been  sent  out  to  conquer  and 
civilize.  For  hours  at  a  time  he  sat  brooding  over  books 
with  incredibly  strange  characters.  And  as  he  read,  he 
propped  his  head,  with  its  rather  dishevelled  black  hair, 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  209 

between  his  palms,  and  rubbed  it  violently,  as  if  he  were 
trying  to  press  it  into  a  shape  that  suited  him  better.  At 
twilight  he  sat  down  in  front  of  a  queer  little  harmonium, 
and  with  strangely  nimble  movements,  played  odd  rum- 
bling moaning  melodies,  which  conjured  up  for  the  hearer  a 
picture  of  great  hosts  of  people  groaning  dully  in  religious 
frenzy,  wringing  their  hands,  and  imploring  aid  from  a 
higher  power.  On  general  principles  Antje  Baas  had 
nothing  against  his  being  a  heathen,  and  nothing  against 
his  slow,  melancholy  tunes.  But  when  her  beloved  boy 
grew  restless  in  his  dreams  because  of  the  playing  in  the 
next  room,  she  wanted  to  turn  the  queer  fellow  out.  The 
children,  however,  begged  for  him,  and  the  sick  boy  him- 
self persuaded  her  to  let  him  stay.  So  Klaus,  lying  there, 
hearing  the  music  faintly,  was  borne  on  the  waves  of  slow 
strange  melodies  toward  that  far-away  land  before  he  knew 
that  he  himself  would  soon  tread  it. 

A  week  later,  when  he  was  out  of  bed,  Karl  Eschen  came 
a  second  time  and  stayed  for  about  an  hour.  In  his  aris- 
tocratic way  he  looked  all  around  the  room,  and  studied 
Antje  Baas  and  the  children.  And  Klaus,  pleased  that 
every  one  of  them  was  going  about  his  duties  tidily, 
thought  to  himself,  "Go  on  —  lift  your  eyebrows  as  much 
as  you  want  to."  Karl  Eschen  asked  Klaus  Baas  how  he 
had  spent  his  time  of  service,  and  what  he  had  read  and 
done.  He  reproached  him  for  having  danced  in  Blank- 
enese  instead  of  trying  to  get  into  good  society  in  Uhlen- 
horst.  "  I  served  my  year  in  Potsdam,"  he  said;  "•  otherwise 
I  might  have  helped  you.  Knowing  all  about  social  conven- 
tions is  very  important  for  a  merchant.  Baas;  indeed,  it's 
first  and  most  important." 

Although  Karl  concealed  it  cleverly  enough,  Klaus  Baas 
saw  that  he  had  something  up  his  sleeve  and  that  he  had 
wanted  to  inspect  him  and  his  people.  Karl  did  not  bring 
it  forward  that  day.  But  the  next  day  he  came  again, 
and  asked  whether  Klaus  Baas  would  like  to  go  with  him 
at  once  to  the  interior  of  India  for  three  or  four  years,  for 
the  firm  of  A.  W.  Thauler.  Karl  told  him  about  the  firm, 
an  important  one,  about  the  climate,  and  about  life  in  India. 


210  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

Secretly  jubilant,  Klaus  Baas  said  at  once  that  he  would 
go.  Several  days  later,  still  a  little  dizzy,  but  with  a  clear 
head,  he  went  to  the  office  of  the  Thauler  firm.  Here  he 
learned  that  he  would  be  in  the  employment  of  A.  W. 
Thauler  for  only  the  first  two  years.  After  that,  commis- 
sioned by  and  accountable  to  the  firm  of  H.  C.  Eschen,  of 
which  Karl's  brother  was  the  head,  Klaus  was  to  accom- 
pany Karl  into  the  interior  to  examine  a  tin  mine  there 
and  perhaps  get  it  working.  The  Eschens'  father  had 
come  into  possession  of  the  mine  ten  years  ago,  shortly 
before  his  death,  through  accepting  it  as  security.  They 
were  to  start  in  two  weeks.  Klaus  Baas  considered,  signed 
the  contract,  and  was  advanced  a  generous  sum  of  ready 
money.  Within  the  next  few  days  he  proudly  made  the 
necessary  purchases,  to  the  great  interest  of  his  brothers 
and  sisters.  His  mother  looked  on  critically  and  very 
silently. 

On  the  third  day  before  they  left  came  an  invitation 
from  Karl  Eschen's  mother,  asking  him  to  be  present  at  a 
little  farewell  party  she  was  giving. 

Klaus  set  off  while  it  was  still  light,  in  a  mood  of  almost 
solemn  importance.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  en- 
tered an  aristocratic,  well-to-do  house.  In  the  Mittelweg, 
which  was  still  a  quiet  street  at  that  time,  he  found  the 
broad  low  house,  in  the  first  floor  of  which  lived  the 
Eschens.  He  went  up  the  steps,  and  a  neat  maid  let  him 
into  the  hall.  Klaus  was  surprised  that  the  long  narrow 
room  was  furnished  in  such  a  simple,  old-fashioned  way. 
Then  he  found  himself  in  a  cheerfully  lighted  room,  where 
he  looked  cautiously  around  him  at  the  dark  walls,  the 
heavy  old  furniture,  the  dark  shining  oil  paintings,  and  the 
odd  thick  rug.  Everything  seemed  to  him  to  be  very  sim- 
ple and  yet  very  distinguished.  After  he  had  been  stand- 
ing there  a  little  while  a  stately  lady  with  shiny  gray  hair 
came  in.  She  looked  at  him  kindly,  and  giving  him  her 
hand,  made  him  sit  down.  Then  she  sat  down  too,  and 
said, with  a  sort  oi;  reserved  cordiality,  that  she  was  glad 
he  was  going  away  with  her  son.  She  had  heard  his  name 
now  and  then  years  ago,  she  said,  when  he  had  gone  into 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  211 

the  office.  Indeed,  there  at  home  they  had  all  had  a  little 
joke  about  his  name,  because  it  had  such  a  peculiar  sound 
—  Klaas  Hinrich  Baas.  She  looked  at  him  again,  with 
her  wise  gray  eyes.  Evidently  liking  his  proud  grave 
face,  she  went  on,  in  the  same  reserved  manner,  "  I  asked 
you  to  come  earlier  than  the  rest  because  I  wanted  to  have 
a  word  alone  with  you.  I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  sor- 
row in  my  family.  I  lost  my  father-in-law  and  my  two 
brothers-in-law,  and  then  five  years  ago  I  lost  my  hus- 
band. I  have  hardly  put  off  mourning,"  running  her  hand 
down  her  black  gown,  "  during  the  whole  of  my  married 
life.  Just  once  I  spent  three  gay  weeks  with  my  husband, 
on  a  trip  to  Italy.  My  husband,  who  was  in  France  in 
'70,  was  severely  wounded  there,  and  was  never  entirely 
well  again ;  indeed  he  died,  though  not  till  several  years 
later,  from  the  consequences  of  that  M^ound.  As  he  grew 
worse  the  business  declined,  and  when  he  died,  five  years 
ago,  it  suffered  a  heavy  shock.  Since  that  time,  as  you 
know,  my  eldest  son  Arthur  has  had  charge  of  it.  Now 
Karl  is  going  to  India.  Within  the  last  ten  years,  not 
much  good  has  come  to  me  from  there.  I  want  to  ask  you 
to  be  a  good  comrade  to  my  son  !  "  She  tried  to  say  more; 
but  her  eyes  were  overflowing,  and  she  gave  him  her  hand 
in  silence.  Pressing  it,  Klaus  told  her  that  she  could  rely 
on  him. 

Since  other  guests  were  coming,  she  excused  herself  and 
turned  away.  As  he  stood  looking  after  her,  he  heard  a 
womjin's  step  behind  him,  and,  turning,  saw  a  tall,  hand- 
some girl,  whose  little  head  was  covered  with  curly  light 
brown  hair.  In  a  flash  he  recognized  the  Tuddi,  who,  in 
the  red  mantle  and  big  chair,  had  sat  for  Zephaniah  in  the 
artist's  studio.  With  a  cool  nod,  she  said  haughtily,  and 
at  the  same  time  casually,  with  a  gesture  designed  to  put 
him  in  his  place,  "  Sanna  and  I  knew  right  away  who  you 
were  when  Karl  told  about  your  being  an  apprentice  at 
Herr  Trimborn's.  We  remembered  that  Aunt  Laura  had 
told  us  your  full  name.  But  we  thought  that  it  would  be 
better  for  you  if  we  didn't  say  anything  about  it.  And 
now  to  think  you  are  going  to  India  with  my  brother ! " 


212  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

While  she  had  been  talking,  Klaus  had  rapidly  recovered 
from  his  astonishment.  "  Do  just  as  you  like, "  he  said, 
with  an  air  just  as  haughty  and  just  as  casual  as  hers. 
"  How  is  your  sister  ?  " 

Seeing  how  quick  and  proud  he  was,  she  looked  at  him 
more  benignly, —  just  as  she  had  looked  in  the  early  years. 
"  Sanna  went  on  an  excursion  with  her  school  out  to  the 
Liineburger  heath.  She's  been  walking  around  all  day, 
and  she  will  have  to  go  to  bed  as  soon  as  she  comes  back." 
With  a  little  laugh,  she  added,  "  But  she  was  very  curious 
to  see  you." 

Just  then  her  brother  Karl  came  along  and  shook  hands 
with  him  cordially,  as  Avith  an  old  acquaintance  who  was 
going  to  be  his  daily  companion  for  years  to  come.  And 
yet  the  greeting  was,  as  usual,  formal  enough.  Then  came 
the  elder  brother,  Arthur,' the  head  of  the  firm.  He  was 
like  Karl,  but  smaller  and  thinner.  He  talked  reservedly 
about  the  trip  and  about  the  outfit  they  ought  to  have,  and 
about  the  firm  they  were  going  to  be  employed  by  first. 
Then  he  spoke  of  their  own  enterprise.  Pretty  soon  an 
older  man  came  up  to  them.  He  was  short,  thin,  and  re- 
fined looking,  and  wore  spectacles,  through  which  looked 
his  childlike,  intelligent  eyes  ;  altogether,  he  looked  like  a 
scholar.  He  was  greeted  by  the  older  brother  with  a 
hearty  slap  on  the  shoulder  as  Uncle  Eberhard,  and  pre- 
sented to  Klaus  Baas  in  the  same  way.  "  Indeed,  he  hasn't 
any  other  name  ;  the  other  one  has  absolutely  disappeared. 
He  is  just  Uncle  Eberhard.  And,  Uncle,  this  is  Herr  Klaus 
Baas,  who  is  going  to  India  with  Karl  to  look  after  that 
famous  tin  mine  of  ours."  The  little  gentleman  looked 
up  at  Klaus  kindly,  then,  drawing  back  a  little,  stood 
there,  a  modest  listener. 

In  a  somewhat  casual,  trifling  way,  the  older  brother  be- 
gan to  ask  about  the  Trimborn  business.  Klaus  Baas, 
on  his  guard,  made  clear  and  cautious  replies,  realizing 
very  well  that  his  tact  and  discretion  were  being  tested. 
The  little  man  in  the  background  studied  Klaus's  face, 
and  Karl  looked  now  at  him,  now  at  Arthur  Eschen. 
"  Go  on  with  your  questions,"  thought  Klaus  to  himself, 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  213 

prompted  by  his  crafty,  comfortable  peasant  streak.  "  If 
you  are  coffeesacks,  I'm  a  conisack  from  away  back  I" 
And  he  had  to  be  careful  not  to  show  in  his  face  his  pride  in 
his  sense  of  victory. 

When  the  two  brothers  were  called  away  to  receive  a 
new  guest,  little  Uncle  Eberhard  asked  Klaus  to  sit  doAvn 
on  the  sofa  with  him,  and  proceeded  to  ask  him  about  the 
country  he  had  been  born  in,  recalling  something  of  its 
history,  and  asking  about  certain  historical  associations. 
Trude  Eschen  came  up  to  them  again  with  a  young  man 
whom  she  introduced  as  "  our  friend,"  who  was  going  away 
also  to  Mexico.  She  seemed  to  be  in  higher  spirits  now  that 
this  Mexican  was  there.  "  I  just  wanted  to  hear,"  she 
said,  with  a  hearty  laugh,  "how  Uncle  Eberhard  will  man- 
age to  bring  the  talk  around  to  seals  and  coins.  Of  course 
you  know  he's  a  collector  of  them  —  and  I  wanted  espe- 
cially to  see  what  he  would  find  to  say  about  them  to  you." 

"  Why  shouldn't  he  talk  to  me  about  them  ?  "  said  Klaus 
Baas,  liglitly.  "  We  have  some  good  old  families  in  my 
home  country."  He  went  on  to  tell  about  the  Baas  coat  of 
arms,  which  was  in  the  window  of  the  museum  at  home, 
and  about  tlie  valuable  old  estate  they  had  lost  through 
bad  harvests  and  bad  management. 

Growing  distinctly  animated,  the  little  gentleman  ques- 
tioned Klaus  about  this  point  and  that.  "  Yes,  that's  just 
the  way  when  you  get  to  the  third  or  fourth  generation," 
he  said.  "  There  was  my  grandfather,  who  seized  the  oars 
himself  when  he  wanted  to  go  on  board  one  of  his  ships 
in  the  harbor ;  and  here  I  sit  moping  with  spectacles  and 
magnifying  glasses  over  old  seals  and  heraldic  flourishes." 

"  And  yet  you're  a  Hamburger  and  a  Republican,"  said 
the  pretty  curly-head,  reproachfully. 

Uncle  Eberhard  shrugged  his  shoulders  helplessly  and 
looked  at  Klaus  Baas.  He  said  that  the  Eschens  had  ex- 
actly the  same  origin  as  the  Baases,  except  that  their  coat 
of  arms  ornamented  the  doorway  of  a  farm  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Elbe,  in  the  Kedingen  region.  Then  Klaus 
Baas  told  again  about  the  past  and  present  life  of  the  old 
families,  about  their  remembrance  of  old  times,  and  about 


214  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

the  country  festival  they  had  celebrated.  Trude  Eschen, 
with  her  head  thrown  back  a  little,  kept  looking  at  him 
steadily.  Klaus  felt  that  now  she  was  respecting  him 
again,  just  as  she  had  the  time  he  pressed  her  foot  firmly 
down  on  the  stool. 

In  his  triumph,  he  grew  a  little  too  confident,  and  going 
up  to  a  fourteen-year  old  cousin  of  the  Eschens,  grasped 
him  cautiously  enough  by  the  shoulder,  and  said  roguishly, 
"  Well,  do  you  know  my  name,  and  have  you,  too,  had  a 
lot  of  fun  over  it  ?  "  The  expression  on  the  boy's  face  and 
the  way  he  shook  off  his  hand  showed  Klaus  that  he  did 
not  understand  his  familiarity.  Ill  at  ease  again,  Klaus 
said  to  himself  ill-humoredly,  "  Positively,  that's  the  last 
time  I'll  show  these  people  what  I  really  am."  Stiffening 
up  quickly,  he  asked,  with  a  view  to  smoothing  matters 
over,  whether  the  boy,  too,  had  heard  the  rumors  about 
war.  Back  there  in  the  '80's  a  fresh  rumor  of  war  spread 
over  the  country  about  every  year.  The  boy  answered 
that  he  had  heard  something  about  it  on  the  playground, 
but  that  the  teacher  had  said  that  it  was  just  empty  talk 
again. 

Klaus  returned  to  the  front  room,  where  he  was  intro- 
duced to  some  young  people,  between  eighteen  and  twenty. 
In  the  confident,  important  way  of  their  years,  they  were 
talking  about  their  rowing,  sailing,  all  kinds  of  ball  games, 
and  meetings  in  various  places.  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of 
all  this,  two  young  ladies  arrived  quite  unexpectedly.  They 
were  distant  relatives,  who  had  made  the  trip  over  from 
Bremen  to  say  good-by  to  their  "  dear  cousin,"  as  they 
called  him.  There  followed  throughout  the  two  rooms  a 
lot  of  gay,  surprised  chattering,  and  running  to  and  fro. 
Meanwhile  Klaus  Baas,  standing  silent  and  stiff  among 
the  gay  crowd,  felt  bitterly  annoyed  because  he  couldn't 
strike  the  right  tone,  and  be  as  free  and  easy  as  the  rest 
were.  He  was  sure  that  in  their  refined,  supercilious  way, 
they  were  remarking  the  "  lack  of  breeding "  in  him  at 
once. 

Gradually  most  of  the  guests  had  gone  into  a  room 
farther  on,  and  Karl  Eschen  came  to  take  Klaus  in  too. 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  215 

It  was  a  rather  long-,  comfortable  looking  apartment  well 
furnished  with  all  kinds  of  old  dark  blue  furnishings. 
Under  the  window  against  the  exquisitely  ruffled  mull 
curtains  was  sitting  an  old  woman.  Though  bent,  she 
was  still  handsome ;  over  her  iron-gray  hair  she  wore  a 
snow-white  cap,  and  she  kept  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap. 
With  some  difficulty,  she  was  looking  up  and  answering 
in  her  soft  voice  the  remarks  addressed  to  her  by  the 
group  around  her  chair.  "  That  is  my  father's  mother," 
said  Karl  Eschen.  "Among  her  acquaintances  she  is 
still  known  by  the  old-fashioned  title  of  Madame  Eschen. 
She  just  loves  to  talk  about  old  times,  about  the  winter 
when  the  French  -were  here,  and  the  big  fire,  and  all  that ; 
and  she  also  talks  very  intelligently  about  what  is  going 
on  around  her  now.  But  the  whole  period  in  between  — 
even  the  death  of  her  own  people  and  the  other  changes 
time  has  brought  —  are  entirely  wiped  out  of  her  memorj^ 
She  thinks  her  three  sons  are  still  living,  and  that  our 
firm  is  still  in  its  old  flourishing  state." 

The  group  around  her,  young  and  old  members  of  her 
family,  addressed  her  with  the  greatest  respect,  some 
gravely  and  some  brightly.  And  she  gave  to  each  a 
grave  or  a  smiling  answer.  Karl  Eschen,  bringing  Klaus 
up  to  her,  said,  "  This  is  the  man  that's  going  to  India 
with  me,  grandmother." 

Probably  understanding  Karl  to  say  that  Klaus  Baas 
came  from  India,  she  asked,  with  a  polite  inclination  of 
her  head,  "Did  you  happen"  to  come  across  my  son,  the 
sailor  ?  His  name  is  Felix,  and  he  is  a  midshipman  on 
the  Frauenlob.^'' 

Klaus  Baas  bowed  and  said,  "  I  have  not  seen  him, 
Madame." 

"  Bon  voyage,"  she  said  politely,  with  a  dignified  little 
bow. 

Just  then  the  maid  came  up  and  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
"  I  am  afraid  Madame  Eschen  ought  not  to  talk  any  more." 
Then  they  went  back  to  the  other  room. 

After  a  little  time,  most  of  which  he  spent  talking  to  Frau 
Eschen  and  Uncle  Eberhard,  Klaus  made  his  farewells. 


216  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

As  Karl  Eschenwas  accompanying  him  to  the  door,  Klaus 
called  his  attention  to  the  low  crying  of  a  child,  coming 
from  the  other  end  of  the  hall.  Listening  for  a  minute, 
Karl  Eschen  smiled  and  said,  "  That's  my  little  sister. 
Come  on  and  make  her  acquaintance  right  now,"  he  added 
cordially.  "  She's  a  pretty  little  girl,  and  I'm  sorry  I've 
got  to  do  without  her  for  such  a  long  time." 

Klaus  followed  him  to  a  little  room  containing  two  beds. 
The  child,  who  must  have  been  about  ten,  was  sitting 
up  in  one  of  the  beds,  rubbing  her  eyes  and  crying.  The 
maid  was  standing  beside  the  bed,  urging  her  to  get  up. 
"Sanna  always  likes  to  sleep  alone  here  in  the  guest  room," 
she  said  to  Karl  Eschen;  "  but  now  she  will  really  have  to 
leave  it,  for  the  young  ladies  from  Bremen  have  to  sleep 
here." 

Klaus  Baas  looked  curiously  at  the  pretty  little  girl,  with 
her  light  brown  braids,  as  she  sat  there  in  the  big  white  bed. 
"  You  like  to  have  a  room  to  yourself,  don't  you,  you 
rogue  ?  "  he  said. 

Still  rubbing  her  eyes,  she  heard  the  stranger's  voice, 
and  said,  "  My  family  doesn't  have  a  bit  of  respect  for 
me." 

Her  brother  smiled  at  Klaus  Baas,  "  Come  on,"  he 
said,  "I'll  carry  you  over." 

But  she  only  wept  on.  "  I  won't  have  anything  to  do 
with  my  family." 

"Well,"  said  her  brother,  "you  certainly  have  got  to 
get  out  of  that  bed.  If  you  don't  want  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  your  family,  I  guess  Herr  Baas  will  have  to  do 
it.  You  know  he's  the  one  that's  going  to  India  with 
me. 

Raising  her  head,  the  little  thing  looked  at  Klaus  Baas 
with  big  grave  ej^es  exactly  like  her  mother's.  Then,  re- 
signedly, she  said,  "Well,  go  on,  then." 

"  Here  we  go,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  quite  as  well  satisfied 
as  she.  With  the  dexterity  his  experience  as  big  brother 
had  given  him,  he  lifted  the  slender  little  figure,  warm 
from  the  bed,  and  carried  her  to  a  nice  little  bed  beside 
her  mother's  in  the  next  room,  sympathizing  hypocritically 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  217 

with  her  all  the  time.  He  laid  lier  down  and  she  snuggled 
wearily  under  the  covers,  but  Klaus  wouldn't  let  it  stop 
there.  "  If  they  ever  do  anything  to  you  again,"  he  said, 
in  a  low,  teasing  voice,"  then.  Jumbo,  show  the  gentlemen 
your  teeth!"  Opening  her  eyes  again,  she  said:  "My 
goodness,  what  rubbish!  It's  old  Klaas  Hinrich  Baas." 
Klaus  turned  away  with  a  smile. 

Looking  up,  he  saw  Frau  Eschen  and  Tuddi  standing 
with  Karl  at  the  door.  The  two  were  laughingly  reproach- 
ing their  mother.  "  That  youngest  of  yours  is  a  spoiled 
one  ! "  they  were  saying.  "  What  will  she  be  when  she 
grows  up  ?     Her  family  has  no  respect  for  her,  she  says." 

The  mother  smiled.  "She's  been  brought  up  just  the 
way  you  were,"  she  said,  "and  aren't  your  manners  and 
principles  good  enough  ?  To  be  sure,  you  are  all  a  little 
crackbrained  —  but  one  can  stand  that.  However,  if  you 
want  to  be  different,  do  just  as  you  like." 

They  laughed,  and  went  to  the  door  with  Klaus  Baas. 

The  next  morning,  on  his  way  to  the  office  at  head- 
quarters to  take  leave  of  the  sergeant,  he  heard  very 
positive  rumors  that  the  war  was  really  near.  Hurrying 
faster,  he  eagerly  asked  the  sergeant  whether  he  knew 
anything  about  it.  With  a  calm  look  at  Klaus,  the  ser- 
geant said,  "  I  don't  know  a  thing  about  it.  If  it's  coming, 
it  will  come,  that's  all." 

"  Well,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  hotly,  "  it  isn't  quite  so  sim- 
ple as  that.  In  the  first  place,  how  could  I  get  out  of  the 
office  ?  Do  you  think  I  want  to  be  sitting  there  writing, 
while  the  rest  are  going  to  the  field  ?  And  in  the  second 
place,  I'm  booked  to  sail  for  India  to-morrow  evening  on 
the  Borussia.'^ 

The  sergeant,  having  no  answer  to  make  to  that,  let 
Klaus  go. 

On  the  steps  leading  to  A.  W.  Thauler's,  he  met  Karl 
Eschen,  who  had  also  heard  of  the  probability  of  war. 
They  spoke  of  it  to  the  chief,  who  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  said  that  of  course  they  would  have  to  sail.  Klaus 
and   Karl  were   both  perplexed  and  vexed,  picturing  to 


218  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

themselves  how  disgraceful  it  would  be  if  their  ship  were 
captured  and  they  were  taken  prisoners,  while  the  rest 
were  going  to  the  field.  They  waited  till  the  very  last 
moment  before  clattering  down  to  the  dock  with  their 
trunks.  And  by  that  time  the  rumors  of  war  were  get- 
ting fainter.  In  the  twilight  they  were  gliding  down  the 
channel. 

Faithfully,  mile  after  mile,  the  sturdy  little  boat  pushed 
and  pounded  its  way  through  the  waters  toward  the  south. 
Close  by  them  glided  the  austere  cliffs  of  Dover,  and 
farther  away  the  islands  of  the  coast  of  France.  On  the 
choppy  waves  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay  the  sun  shone  warm. 
Off  the  rock  of  Gibraltar  it  grew  hotter ;  and  from  the 
Suez  Canal  the  desert  in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun 
gleamed  red  as  fire. 


CHAPTER   XV 

Years  afterward,  when  Klaus  Baas  had  passed  by  those 
shores  again,  and  had  spent  years  in  the  far  East,  the  four 
years  spent  in  the  heat  of  India  seemed  to  him,  as  he 
looked  back  upon  them,  like  a  single  hot  summer  day  and 
night.  And  they  seemed  so  in  spite  of  the  many  busy 
hours  of  commonplace  work  in  the  white  office  on  Beach 
Street,  not  a  hundred  feet  from  the  shore,  and  in  spite 
of  the  constant  tedious  haggling  with  old  Swee  Hong. 
Vividly  he  recalled  strangely  beautiful  and  sometimes  ter- 
rible images  which  flamed  up  like  lights  one  after  another 
and  then  faded.  His  family  had  probably  lived  for  cen- 
turies in  that  same  little  village  beyond  the  North  Sea. 
He  was  the  first  of  a  long  line  to  move  away  from  the 
home  place.  And  so  the  lands  abroad  were  to  him 
stranger,  more  wonderful,  than  they  would  have  been  to 
many  others.  Sometimes,  indeed,  they  were  almost 
terrible. 

The  Indian  Ocean  sweeps  in  a  rolling  deep  blue  expanse 
far  out  to  the  clear  horizon.  'There  the  hot  burning  sun 
sets  swiftly,  almost  as  if  it  were  falling  down  the  sky  into 
the  darker,  more  strongly  rolling  waters.  The  moon 
shines  white  and  the  dark  night  sky  gleams  with  a  strange 
confusion  of  stars.  The  w^ater  at  the  prow  gleams  in  many 
colors,  like  those  of  jewels  from  far  countries.  Klaus,  as 
he  looked  out  into  the  night  and  down  into  the  water,  felt 
that  he  was  going  among  more  passionate  lands  and  men 
than  he  had  known.  He  drew  a  deep  breath  and  turned 
toward  his  fellow-travellers  into  distant  lands.  He  talked 
with  the  stately  wife  of  a  captain,  who  was  going  to  visit 
her  husband  in  Vladivostock.     She  was  a  native  of  Ham- 

219 


220  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

burg,  a  self-possessed  person,  with  a  gay  little  laugh.  "  Are 
you  homesick  ?  "  she  asked  Klaus.  "  Oh,  no,"  he  answered. 
He  attached  himself  to  her  and  listened  to  her  talk  about 
her  children,  whom  she  had  left  in  her  mother's  care  at 
Ovelgonne  ;  and  as  they  talked  he  felt  quite  cheerful  and 
comfortable.  Sometimes,  too,  he  talked  to  the  bride-to-be 
of  the  English  postmaster  in  Hong  Kong,  who  sat  under 
the  awning  sewing  at  her  trousseau.  She  was  younger 
than  Klaus,  and,  happy  because  she  was  going  to  her 
sweetheart,  she  hummed  at  her  work.  Sometimes  he 
stood  at  the  railing  with  the  Siamese  officer  who  came 
from  the  French  army,  and  talked  about  the  method  of 
attack  of  the  German  infantry.  Sometimes  he  listened  to 
the  stories  of  the  tobacco  planter  who  was  returning  from 
a  visit  to  Holland,  his  native  country.  Klaus  resented  the 
big,  easy  way  in  which  he  advised  him  to  break  his  con- 
tract and  become  a  tobacco  planter  in  Sumatra.  Some- 
times, too,  Klaus  sat  down  with  the  shipping  clerk  who 
was  travelling^  for  a  German  firm  to  Yokohama  and  who 
was  usually  to  be  found  sitting  on  the  bench  near  the  rud- 
der, singing  out  sentences  from  a  Japanese  text-book  over 
the  water  bubbling  around  the  keel,  or  studying  his  Malay 
dictionary.  Toward  evening  there  was  a  game  of  skat 
with  the  captain  and  the  tobacco  planter,  who  lost,  and  had 
to  pay  for  the  wine  at  dinner.  At  that  time  only  small 
steamers  travelled  between  Hamburg  and  the  far  East. 
There  were  not  ten  passengers  on  board,  but  since  no  one 
of  them  had  known  any  of  the  others,  and  since  they  all 
got  acquainted,  there  was  plenty  of  talking  and  listening. 
Colombo  gleamed  through  the  night.  The  stars 
sparkled  brightly  over  the  deep  blue  sea.  Black  on  the 
shore  rose  the  gigantic  forest.  The  white  houses  shone  in 
the  distance.  But  they  were  not  so  white  as  the  breakers 
over  the  mole  ;  and  brighter  than  the  stars  gleamed  the 
signals  exchanged  by  the  English  men-of-war.  Klaus 
Baas,  standing  against  the  wall  of  the  chart-room,  looked 
across  and  thought,  "  For  centuries  the  people  of  my  race 
have  voyaged  here  in  the  service  of  England  and  Holland. 
Perhaps,  four  centuries  ago,  who  knows?  —  a  man  from 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  221 

my  village  may  have  seen  this  same  picture.  But  they 
travelled  on  wretched  little  ships,  and  they  were  menaced 
by  pirates,  attacked  by  sickness,  or  struck  down  when 
they  went  ashore  ;  many  never  returned.  How  safely 
and  comfortably  I  am  journeying  !  "  The  first  mate, 
standing  with  his  hands  buried  deep  in  the  pockets  of  his 
white  jacket,  looked  over  toward  the  city  and  said  feel- 
ingly, "  Four  years  ago  a  young  chap  went  ashore  here. 
He  and  I  had  many  a  chat  together.  He  was  from  a  good 
family  in  Berlin.  I  rather  think  he  wanted  to  come  here 
to  Colombo  because  he  had  heard  some  talk  about  the  gay 
life  here  and  the  pretty  dark  girls.  He  lies  buried  here 
now.  Do  you  see  over  there  —  that  group  of  darker 
houses  ?  That's  the  graveyard  of  the  Europeans."  The 
mate  walked  away  whistling.  "What  was  he  telling 
you  ?  "  Karl  Eschen  asked  Klaus.  "  Oh,  about  a  young 
fellow  from  Berlin  who  went  to  pieces  here  and  died." 
"Well,"  said  Karl,  "that  happens  over  and  over  again, 
Baas.  We've  got  to  be  prepared  for  anything."  They 
both  stood  there  silently,  looking  over  toward  the  white 
city. 

They  swept  on  and  on,  nearer  to  the  East  every  day. 
One  brilliantly  clear  morning,  on  the  seventh  day  after 
they  passed  Colombo,  they  sighted  the  Malay  peninsula. 
At  first  it  was  only  a  strip  of  mist  far  out  on  tlie  ocean  ; 
then,  trembling  and  floating  in  the  moist  sunlight,  appeared 
thickly  wooded  hills,  with  bigger  hills  behind  them  and 
mysterious  forests  through  a  blue  mist.  Over  this  country 
the  sun  glows  and  broods  all  the  year  round,  and  the 
ground  is  moist  and  fertile.  Everywhere  in  wild  luxuriance 
rise  trees  with  grasses  and  vines  growing  thickly  between 
them,  making  a  dense  growth  reaching  clear  up  to  their 
tops.  Wild  things  slip  or  crash  through  it,  flitting  and 
humming  through  the  huge  dank  network.  In  tliis 
country  man  plays  a  very  small  part  as  yet.  He  dwells 
modestly  along  the  shore  ;  and  here  and  there  he  has 
blazed  a  narrow  trail  in  the  wooded  valley.  As  the 
steamer  rounded  a  big  curve  into  the  bay,  on  the  right 
several  white  houses  were  visible  on  the  foremost  heights. 


222  KLAUS  HINRICH    BAAS 

Finally,  along  the  coast,  could  be  seen  a  white  city,  almost 
concealed  behind  tall  trees. 

They  shook  hands  with  their  fellow-travellers  and  went 
down  the  gangway.  The  blades  struck  into  the  light  blue 
water  and  they  went  ashore  into  a  strange  land. 

Huge  brown  men,  almost  naked,  in  the  shafts  of  light 
little  two-wheeled  carts,  plunged  forward.  Imposing 
bright  yellow  men,  in  yellow  khaki  uniforms,  placed  their 
hands  on  their  red  turbans  in  greeting.  Big,  brown,  bare- 
footed policemen  in  blue  uniforms,  with  their  little  caps 
aslant,  energetically  cleared  a  way.  A  young  man  of 
Klaus's  firm  called  him  by  name,  shook  hands  with  him, 
and  led  him  to  the  chief's  pony  cart.  A  broad,  handsome 
street  led  on  under  monstrous  trees.  On  the  right  rolled 
the  ocean ;  on  the  left,  close  one  upon  another,  were  the 
stone  buildings  of  English  firms.  Two  elderly,  dumpy 
little  Chinamen  in  broad  jackets  and  wide  blue  pantaloons 
were  walking  along,  their  leather  sandals  clattering 
clumsily  on  the  sidewalk.  A  gayly  colored  little  crowd 
was  approaching.  In  the  midst  was  a  rude  coffin  draped 
with  a  white  cloth  fluttering  in  the  sea  breeze.  Behind  it 
followed  dark  brown  men  singing  and  laughing,  with  wreaths 
of  white  carnations  over  their  shoulders  sending  a  pungent 
odor  along  the  street.  A  short  brown  woman  in  her  bare 
feet  was  standing  at  the  door  of  a  tavern,  beside  her  fat 
husband.  The  wall  above  them  bore  a  Dutch  name. 
There  at  last  was  the  imposing  house  of  Klaus's  firm,  with 
the  open  shop  below  and  the  offices  above,  and  the  quar- 
ters for  the  employees  beside  it.  Two  big  Chinese  boys 
in  wide  blue  jackets  and  short  flapping  trousers  were  in 
the  courtyard  at  the  side,  killing  a  hen.  They  were  let- 
ting the  wounded  creature  flutter  on  the  ground,  and 
laughing  with  a  heartless  look  on  their  pointed  yellow 
faces.  They  were  called,  and  came  running  up,  "  This 
boy  belongs  to  you,  Herr  Baas,"  Klaus  was  told.  Klaus 
tried  to  look  at  him  masterfull3\  Silently,  wondering  if 
he  Avere  not  dreaming,  he  followed  them  upstairs  to  his 
room. 

In  the  morning  the  office  was  full  of  fresh  sea  air  blowing 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  223 

in  through  the  open  windows.  Seeing  the  polished  desk 
of  Chinese  workmanship,  —  which  might  just  as  well  have 
been  in  an  office  on  the  Alster,  —  and  the  letter-paper 
bearinsf  the  name  of  the  Hamburtj  firm,  a  man  could  im- 
agine  for  a  moment  that  he  was  at  home.  But  when  he 
raised  his  eyes  the  illusion  would  be  gone.  For,  sitting 
against  the  wall,  bent  over  their  writing,  were  yellow 
Mongolians  with  shiny  black  hair  done  in  long,  coal- 
black  pigtails,  with  handsome  blue  bows  at  the  end.  In 
front  of  the  chief  was  a  comfortable  looking  old  Chinaman 
in  a  wide  yellow  jacket,  sitting  stockily  there  with  his 
legs  far  apart.  Now  and  then  he  pulled  his  wide  panta- 
loons up  above  his  knees,  crossed  his  legs,  and  pulling  out 
his  memorandum,  read  it  with  many  contortions  of  hands 
and  face.  The  old  fellow  was  a  great  dealer  in  the  place, 
having  at  his  command  everything  that  the  country  pro- 
duced —  rice,  tin,  skins,  pepper,  copra,  and  nutmegs. 
Klaus  Baas  paused  with  his  pen  poised  to  see  if  he  could 
understand  a  Malay  word  here  and  there.  As  a  naked 
brown  Hindu  office  boy  passed  with  lagging  step,  Klaus 
asked  him  what  was  the  name  of  the  next  steamer  and 
when  it  was  due.  The  Hindu  seemed  to  have  understood, 
for  he  stood  still,  looking  at  Klaus  Baas  with  his  soft,  cow- 
like eyes ;  but  Klaus  couldn't  understand  his  answer. 

Work  was  over  at  five.  The  sun  was  still  hot,  and 
there  was  no  shade  on  the  grass  yet ;  but  the  young 
bodies  that  had  been  sitting  steadily  for  seven  hours  felt 
the  need  of  exercise  on  the  green  grass.  The  rackets 
flourished  in  cheerful  hands,  the  balls  flew  through  the 
clear  air.  The  players  ran  and  scolded  and,  becoming 
foolhardy,  sent  the  boys  far  off  into  the  thicket  for  the 
balls.  It  was  the  first  time  Klaus  had  played  since  he 
had  romped  around  the  church  in  the  village  when  he  was 
twelve  years  old.  At  first  he  was  pretty  awkward,  but  he 
learned  quickly,  and  was  soon  laughing  at  his  partner's 
praise  of  him.  "  What  are  you  laughing  at.  Baas  ?  "  his 
partner  asked.  ^'  Oh,"  said  Klaus,  "  I  was  just  wishing 
that  my  mother  could  see  me  !  "  •'  Why,  does  your  mother 
like  tennis  ?  "     At  that  Klaus  laughed  long  and  merrily. 


224  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

After  the  game  and  a  bath  came  the  nicest  part  of  the 
day  —  the  pleasant  supper  and  the  sitting  together  far  into 
the  night.  The  little  hall  was  white,  had  rather  high 
ceilings,  and  opened  toward  the  front  garden.  In  the 
middle  of  it  stood  a  long  table  beautifully  decorated  with 
flowers.  There  they  sat  and  ate,  each  with  his  boy  stand- 
ing attentively  behind  him.  The  punkah  hanging  from 
the  roof  supplied  a  current  of  fresh  air,  and  made  a  mo- 
notonous accompaniment  to  their  conversation  as  it  slid 
along  the  bar.  The  men  were  all  of  good  family  and 
could  talk  about  houses  and  gardens,  horses  and  boats, 
balls  and  travels.  They  soon  found  out  that  Klaus  Baas 
could  not  talk  about  such  things,  but  he  was  friendly  and 
simple,  and  had  something  that  they  all  lacked  —  a  heredi- 
tary seriousness  which  was  always  evident  in  his  eyes, 
even  when  he  was  laughing  with  them,  and  the  peasant's 
almost  crafty  self-reliance,  which  showed  in  a  hundred 
small  ways.  They  were  thoroughly  friendly  with  him. 
India  was,  to  be  sure,  a  new  world  to  Klaus,  but  so  were 
the  companions  with  whom  he  sat  at  table.  And  it  so 
happened  that  here  in  a  strange  land,  with  companions 
whose  way  of  life  was  like  his  in  every  particula,r  from 
morning  until  evening,  Klaus  became  for  the  first  time 
one  of  the  class  to  which  he  now  belonged.  Wide  awake 
and  curious,  he  listened  and  learned  all  evening  long. 

And  when  as  they  joked  and  laughed,  told  their  stories 
and  spun  their  yarns,  it  suddenly  grew  dark,  they  got  up 
and  threw  themselves  into  the  lounging  chairs  around  the 
open  door.  The  lights  on  the  wall  behind  them  were 
lighted.  On  the  white  walls  appeared  white  lizards,  as 
long  as  your  finger.  With  a  sharp  smacking  sound  they 
hunted  down  the  flies,  or  dropped  down  with  a  thud. 
Huge  moths  whirred  above  them,  beating  heavily  against 
the  lights  and  the  walls.  Outside  in  the  garden  the  bull- 
frogs croaked  boldly,  and  from  the  distance  sounded 
the  resonant  chirping  of  numberless  crickets.  On  the 
street  near  by  the  sheiks  going  to  watch  sang  a  duet  in 
low  monotonous  voices.  An  ox-wagon  on  wooden  wheels, 
with  a  lantern  stuck  on,  jolted  softly  by.     In  from  the 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  225 

door  the  moonlight  shone  white  upon  the  faces  and  sur- 
rounded the  forms  in  the  chairs,  tlie  soda-water  bottles 
upon  the  table  and  the  blue-clad  boys  at  the  door,  wilh 
a  pale  and  ghostly  glow.  The  talk  went  more  slowly.  A 
certain  reserve  came  upon  them ;  the  thoughts  of  each 
left  commonplace  things  of  the  present  and  went  roving 
dreamily  into  the  distance. 

One  of  them  told  a  story  about  his  great-grandfather, 
who  had  been  a  weaver  in  Saxony  —  or  perhaps  a  fisher- 
man in  Fohr.  Another  spoke  of  his  father  —  what  a  time  he 
had  had  with  his  father  trying  to  enlarge  and  extend  the 
business.  Another  talked  about  his  mother  —  of  the  race 
and  house  she  had  come  from  and  what  kind  of  youth  she 
had  had.  A  fourth  showed  a  picture  of  his  sister,  which 
he  studied  long  and  silentl}',  as  if  he  were  looking  at  it 
for  the  first  time.  And  while  they  praised  it,  he  listened 
proudW.  Klaus  Baas  kept  quiet  and  listened,  once  in  a 
while  asking  a  cautious  question  in  a  pause,  artfully,  in 
order  not  to  stop  the  narrator.  In  the  midst  of  talk  of 
this  kind,  one  or  another  of  the  men  would  get  up  once  in 
a  while,  walk  over  to  the  edge  of  the  veranda,  and  stand 
there  motionless,  looking  out  into  the  night  and  thinking 
of  home.  Finally  even  the  fellow  from  Oldenburg  would 
get  up.  He  was  a  large,  well-built  man,  with  light  hair 
and  eyes  at  once  courageous  and  gentle.  He  was  a  general 
favorite.  He  stood  longest  on  the  edge  of  the  veranda  ; 
then,  suddenly,  as  if  starting  out  of  deep  thought,  he 
turned  around,  seized  his  glass,  and  emptied  it,  his  hand- 
some eyes  full  of  gloomy  fire.  The  Dutch  physician  had 
told  him  that  he  ought  to  drink  less  whiskey  in  his  soda- 
water,  but  he  said  that  drink  was  hereditary  in  his  family 
and  he  couldn't  leave  off.  For  that  reason  he  was  a  grief 
and  anxiety  to  all  of  them .  Finally  they  all  said  good  night 
and  separated. 

As  he  fell  asleep  Klaus  Baas  wondered  why  he  took  so 
keen  an  interest  in  the  fortunes  of  men  and  why  he  liked 
to  think  about  them  and  to  imagine  things  about  them. 
He  wrinkled  his  })row,  remembering  the  fancies  that  used 
to  beset  him  as  he  travelled  on  the  barge  up  and  down  the 


226  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Elbe.  And  once  again  he  thought  that  he  certainly  had 
not  been  born  to  be  a  merchant,  but  to  be  a  writer  or  a 
journalist  or  something  else  equally  unsubstantial.  But  then 
again  it  seemed  to  him  that  what  he  had  was  just  an  im- 
pulse to  know  the  world  and  human  life.  And  he  laughed 
in  a  pleased  way  at  his  own  anxiety,  gave  another  glance 
at  the  variegated  pictures  he  had  made,  and  sailed  on  them 
as  on  a  bravely  painted  ship  with  colors  all  flying,  into  the 
land  of  dreams.  In  the  morning,  his  sense  of  duty  and 
his  delight  in  shrewd  thinking  and  in  conquest  made  a 
merchant  of  him  again. 

He  had  a  good  deal  of  trouble  with  the  new  language. 
He  simply  could  not  succeed  in  getting  up  enough  skill  in 
it  to  carry  on  a  satisfactory  chat  with  the  native  dealers. 
He  could  get  no  further  than  the  general  business  formu- 
las. The  men  told  him  that  this  language  sense  didn't  go 
with  a  thick  peasant's  head  like  his,  and  advised  him  to  do 
as  the  rest  had  done  and  try  the  "sleeping  dictionary." 
The  little  Japanese  women  in  Small  Street,  they  said,  spoke 
the  Malay  tongue  well,  and  were  not,  either  in  their  way 
of  living  or  in  their  race  feeling,  common  women.  As  for 
anything  further,  he  might,  of  course,  do  as  he  liked  ;  but 
for  their  part,  they  did  not  mean,  settled  as  they  were  in 
the  midst  of  work,  a  foreign  land,  and  death,  to  become 
thoroughgoing  ascetics.  So  one  evening  Klaus  started 
off  toward  Small  Street  with  the  oldest  of  the  round  table. 
They  came  among  naked  children  at  play,  and  shining 
Kling  women  whose  gleaming  skins  shone  in  the  flickering 
lampliglit  by  which  the  Chinese  craftsmen  sat  at  work  in 
their  open  booths.  Beside  a  pretty  house  covered  with 
waving  palms,  in  a  tidy  little  room,  about  as  big  as  the 
niche  for  the  bed  would  have  been  in  Klaus'shome  village, 
he  found  a  dark  little  Japanese  woman  who  hardly  reached 
to  his  breast.  Klaus  was  polite  to  her  in  an  embarrassed 
sort  of  way.  Then  suddenly — because  he  had  to — he 
found  himself  able  to  talk  a  little  Malay.  Losing  his 
awkwardness,  he  soon  felt  quite  at  home.  lie  looked  with 
surprised  delight  on  the  pretty,  friendly  little  woman,  and 
stayed  for  at  least  five  hours.     He  went  home  as  light- 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  227 

hearted  and  happy  as  if  he  had  experienced  a  great  and 
ver}'  beautiful  revelation.  And  he  had  a  tolerably  good 
conscience,  too. 

The  strange  language  grew  easier  for  him.  Indeed, 
when  he  had  once  got  it  in  hand,  he  seemed  to  be  able  to  do 
more  with  it  than  his  companions  did,  and  to  come  nearer 
than  the  others  to  the  simple  yet  thoroughly  subtle  yellow 
people.  They  moved  quickly  over  there.  In  the  morn- 
ings, in  order  to  get  the  reports  of  the  London  stock  market 
sooner  than  the  Englisli  companies,  they  translated  them 
as  quickly  as  possible  into  a  cipher,  and  then  hurried  off 
to  town,  where  they  stood  with  the  Chinese  tradesmen  in 
front  of  the  samples  of  pepper  and  nutmeg  and  the  heaps 
of  loaf -shaped  tin  blocks.  And  they  dealt  with  them 
discreetly,  prophesying  and  admonishing,  haggling,  and 
finally  closing  the  deal  or  letting  it  stand.  Then  they 
returned  to  the  oflice  to  call  the  chief's  attention  to  this 
or  that  point,  and  to  make  their  various  recommendations. 
Karl  Eschen,  with  great  awe,  told  them,  "  You  just  ought 
to  see  how  dry  and  slick  and  good-humored  Klaus  Baas  is 
in  managing  that  old  Swee  Hong.  That's  where  the  old 
peasant  stock  comes  out  in  him.  He  brings  everything 
out  with  the  most  absolute  conviction.  I  think  he  makes 
the  old  man  feel  as  if  his  grandfather  were  talking  to 
him."  The  chief  smiled.  "  There's  nothing  deeper  than 
one  of  those  North  Sea  fellows,"  he  said.  "  I  once  saw 
a  fisherman  from  Biisum  take  in  a  fellow  from  Berlin. 
I  can  see  his  smug  old  face  yet  —  it  fairly  glowed  with 
gravity  and  truth." 

As  yet  the  Germans  had  not  appeared  in  the  local 
society,  which  was  at  that  time  exclusively  English. 
Karl  Eschen  assured  them  that  social  intercourse  was 
necessary  for  good  feeling  and  for  business.  "  Look 
here,"  he  said  to  Klaus  Baas,  "  now's  your  chance  to 
learn  the  ways  of  society."  Knowing  that  Klaus  was 
saving  in  order  to  take  home  a  little  capital,  Eschen 
offered  him  clothes  and  linen,  but  Klaus  was  broader  and 
a  little  shorter  than  he,  and  they  wouldn't  fit.  So  he  had 
a  new  gray  suit  made  in  haste.     Then  six  of  them  called 


228  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

on  the  English  resident  councillor,  the  English  firms,  and 
the  Dutch  doctor.  Everywhere  they  were  introduced  to 
the  ladies.  It  was  not  long  before  they  were  playing 
tennis  with  the  tall,  polite  Englishmen  who  drawled  out, 
"  Take  it  easy,  Mr.  Baas,"  on  the  green  in  the  evenings, 
just  as  they  drawled  the  morning  despatches.  Soon  they 
were  dancing  in  the  hall  at  the  club  with  the  long-faced, 
rather  stiff  Englishwomen  in  low  cut  evening  gowns. 
The  Englishmen  were  in  full  dress,  the  six  Germans  in 
white  dinner  jackets.  It  was  an  oppressively  hot  night, 
and  after  a  spirited  dance  they  were  so  wet  that  their 
shirts  and  collars  suffered.  So  during  the  dance  they 
ordered  their  boys  to  bring  fresh  linen  into  the  next 
room.  After  making  a  quick  change,  they  walked  back 
into  the  hall  clean  and  freshly  starched,  thus  taking 
vengeance  on  the  dress  coats,  and  increasing  their  own 
self-respect.  And  they  talked  with  great  assurance  about 
home  and  abroad,  about  goings  and  comings,  and  about 
the  bouquet  on  the  fluttering  bosom  near  them.  As  they 
were  going  home,  the  fellow  from  Oldenburg  led  Klaus 
off  to  the  Engineers'  Club,  where  they  were  also  having  a 
little  dance,  and  Klaus  danced  several  times  there  with 
several  half-caste  girls  half  grown,  with  well  developed 
yet  slender  figures,  soft,  dark  faces,  and  dark,  beautifully 
glowing  eyes.  There  was  one  especially  —  quite  too 
charming  and  gentle,  light  as  a  feather  in  dancing;  a 
Blankenese  girl  could  hardly  dance  that  way  —  who 
rested  quite  contentedly  in  Klaus's  arm.  Klaus  let  her  go 
only  when  Karl  Eschen's  grave  face  ap]3eared  in  the  door- 
way. He  had  been  looking  for  Klaus,  and  he  made  him 
come  away  at  once.  On  the  way  home  Klaus  and  the 
man  from  Oldenburg  could  not  praise  enough  the  girl's 
beauty  and  gentleness.  "  Would  you  like  to  begin  an 
affair  with  her?"  asked  Karl  Eschen,  dryly.  "That 
might  not  be  altogether  agreeable  for  you.  Baas.  Would 
you  like  to  marry  her  ?  —  then  go  ahead  !  I  can  tell  you, 
I'm  going  to  get  married  some  day,  —  but  to  a  girl  with 
bright  hair  and  a  white  skin,  one  that  knows  how  to  reef 
a  sail."     That  silenced  the  two  enthusiasts.     A  few  days 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  229 

later  Klaus  saw  the  g'lvVs  father,  a  thick-set  Irish  agent, 
and  her  mother,  a  yellow,  wrinkled  Malay  woman.  Then 
he  silently  thanked  Karl  Eschen  from  the  depths  of  his 
soul,  and  speedily  forgot  the  dark  beauty. 

From  that  time  on  they  were  frequently  guests  at  the 
club,  around  the  comfortable  big  table.  Peter  Macdonald, 
who  had  been  there  a  good  while  and  had  soaked  himself 
pretty  well  in  whiskey,  would  proceed  to  tell  stories  about 
the  races  in  Singapore  which  he  visited  and  took  part  in 
every  year.  When  he  got  excited  and,  straddling  his 
chair,  showed  them  how  he  had  ridden,  helping  out  his 
illustration  with  hands  and  feet,  —  how  they  did  laugh  I 
Aside  from  business,  he  had  no  other  interest  than  horses, 
and  everything  he  said  had  to  do  with  horses  in  some  connec- 
tion —  sometimes  a  rather  unfortunate  one.  One  rather  hot- 
tempered  Scotchman,  who  could  not  bear  his  long  withered 
face,  and  whom  he  had  just  asked  for  the  hundredth  time, 
"Well,  what  are  you  neighing  at  now?" — in  a  sudden 
fit  of  anger  threw  the  mustard  pot  at  his  waistcoat.  The 
little  gray-haired  English  Jew,  who  came  over  once  in  a 
while  from  Rangoon,  told  his  favorite  tale:  how  once, 
when  he  was  a  young  man,  in  Liverpool,  he  had  been  dis- 
couraged with  life,  and  had  tightly  fastened  his  revolver 
with  a  vise  to  the  edge  of  his  desk.  And  he  had  sat  there 
for  a  whole  afternoon  with  the  barrel  pointing  toward 
him,  looking  intently  at  the  dangerous  thing,  and  growing 
more  and  more  doubtful  about  it  and  finally  positively 
frightened.  So  then  he  had  unfastened  the  revolver 
again,  his  gloomy  thoughts  had  completely  dropped  away, 
and  all  was  well  with  him.  Then  raising  his  linger,  he 
admonished  the  young  —  "  Don't  despair  too  soon,"  he 
said.  "  No,  don't  laugh!  "  But  they  did  laugh!  And  Jack 
Hamilton  said  laughingly  to  Klaus  Baas,  "  The  Jews  are 
very  elastic  people.  An  Anglo-Saxon  would  have  done  it 
surely."  It  was  pleasant  on  the  second  New  Year's  Eve, 
when  they  held  a  farewell  celebration  for  Jack  Hamilton, 
with  a  feast  and  fine  drinks  and  much  talk.  Jack  had 
been  there  almost  twenty-five  years,  and  was  unspeak- 
ably glad  to  go  back  to  his  fair  homeland  again.     He  was 


230  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

a  thin  little  man,  and,  in  spite  of  his  fifty  j^ears,  their  best 
tennis  player.  He  stood  erect  beside  the  table  and  to  the 
amazement  of  all  made  his  farewell  speech  —  the  first 
speech  of  his  life.  He  spoke  first  of  his  life  there,  of  the 
old  office  of  his  London  firm,  of  his  faithful  servant,  now 
dead,  of  the  churchyard  in  which  lay  many  that  he  knew. 
Then  he  spoke  of  his  father's  house  in  Wiltshire,  where 
his  brother  was  now  living.  His  brother,  he  said,  was  as 
good  as  gold.  They  had  gone  to  school  and  passed  all 
their  young  years  together  in  blissful  peace,  and  his 
brother  had  been  writing  to  him  faithfully  for  twenty-five 
years.  Now  he  was  going  home  to  him.  And  he  pictured 
his  father's  house  and  the  room  he  would  have  with  its 
outlook  over  the  soft  beautiful  country  of  dreams.  They 
all  sat  without  a  word,  bending  low  over  the  table,  and 
not  daring  to  look  up,  for  they  could  tell  by  his  voice 
that  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  "When  he  had  finished 
they  crowded  around  him,  grasped  his  hands,  and  sang 
with  shining  eyes,  "  For  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow  !  "  An 
hour  later,  after  a  period  of  oppressive  silence,  he  asked 
the  man  next  to  him  to  see  him  home.  To  their  surprised 
inquiries  he  answered  that  he  did  not  feel  well.  Early 
the  next  morning  —  Sunday  —  they  learned  that  he  had 
suddenly  developed  inflammation  of  the  lungs  and  that  he 
was  dead.  Just  as  they  happened  to  be,  some  in  dress 
coats,  some  in  white  tennis  suits,  they  carried  him  to  the 
cemetery,  whose  stones  already  bore  so  many  English  and 
Dutch  names,  and  not  a  few  German  names  as  well. 

After  the  burial,  when  the  steamer  on  which  Jack  Hamil- 
ton had  been  going  to  sail  had  passed  by  the  house  on  its 
way  to  the  high  seas,  Klaus  and  Karl  Eschen  mounted  their 
horses,  according  to  their  usual  Sunday  afternoon  custom. 
Karl  Eschen  had  insisted  that  his  companion  indulge  in  this 
luxury,  for  "  You  simply  must  be  able  to  sail  and  to  ride," 
he  had  said.  They  rode  in  long-continued  silence  along 
the  broad  coast  road.  "  Did  you  see,"  Karl  Eschen  said  at 
last,  in  a  moved  voice,  "  how  our  Oldenburger  wept  at 
the  grave  ?  He  felt  that  he  would  never  get  home  again 
either.       Anybody  that  can't  let  whiskey  alone  here  is 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  231 

done  for.  But  the  soundest  aren't  safe  either.  Who 
would  have  thought  that  Jack  Hamilton  would  go  ?  " 

"  Two  years  from  now  you'll  be  home  again,"  said 
Klaus  Baas. 

"  Two  years  from  now  !  "  said  Karl  Eschen.  After  a 
while  he  said,  "  It  isn't  a  good  time  for  a  trip  now,  but 
we've  got  to  get  that  mine  working.  And  then  a  steady 
rise  in  tin  seems  to  be  coming.  The  chief  has  all  kinds 
of  objections  to  the  trip,  but  my  brother  insists  on  it. 
We  can  get  to  Klang  on  the  Hyelong  in  eight  days  ;  from 
there  we  still  have  a  four  days'  trip  on  foot." 

Klaus  Baas  had  a  tidy  little  sum  left  from  his  salary, 
with  which  he  now  and  then  made  a  little  venture  on  his 
own  account.  "  Then  early  to-morrow  morning,"  he  said, 
"  I'll  certainly  close  a  deal  on  those  two  bales  of  hides. 
I'll  make  three  hundred  dollars." 

Karl  Eschen  looked  askance  at  his  companion.  "  You 
don't  seem  to  think  of  anything  but  your  own  business," 
he  said. 

Klaus  Baas  felt  the  reproof.  "  The  chief  knows  about 
it,"  he  said.     "  He  even  recommended  the  deal  to  me." 

"  The  chief  !  "  said  Karl  Eschen.  "  You  can  be  sure 
that  there's  more  than  one  chief  that  speculates  behind 
his  firm's  back.  You  are  sent  here  to  look  after  the  in- 
terests of  the  house  in  Hamburg.  There's  something  not 
quite  fine  in  private  ventures  of  that  sort.  Baas.  A  busi- 
ness man's  got  to  be  straigkt  from  start  to  finish.  That 
gets  him  a  clear  conscience." 

Klaus  Baas  bit  his  lips.  He  was  accustomed  to  have 
Karl  Eschen  use  these  hours  to  get  in  a  stab  at  his  peasant 
quality  whenever  and  wherever  it  appeared  ;  but  it  never 
ceased  to  vex  him. 

Karl  Eschen  looked  over  at  him.  "  You're  always  too 
tense,"  he  said;  "j^ou  sit  too  tight.''''  Then,  laughing  at 
his  own  joke,  "  A  man  must  have  a  calm  conscience  and 
must  show  it,  even  on  horseback." 

"Come,  that's  enough!"  Klaus  Baas  said,  laughing, 
and  urging  his  horse  to  a  gallop. 

Eight  days  later  they  started    for  the   mine.     It    was 


232  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

February  —  not  a  good  time  to  travel.  On  the  passage 
they  had  all  sorts  of  discomforts,  for  the  sea  was  rough, 
the  badly  adjusted  engines  of  the  steamer  pounded  and 
shrieked,  the  food  was  bad,  and  on  the  whole  steamer 
there  wasn't  a  really  clean  spot.  Besides,  they  both  had 
to  contend  with  seasickness.  Still,  the  weather  held  good 
and  the  west  wind  was  fresh.  But  when  they  reached 
land  and  began  the  journey  into  the  interior  the  weather 
took  a  turn.  At  one  time  the  sun  was  burning ;  at  an- 
other there  were  great  downfalls  of  rain,  accompanied  by 
regular  tempests.  First  they  went  up  the  river  in  a  row- 
boat,  then  they  made  their  way  slowly  forward  on  foot, 
now  through  swamps  with  a  high  growth  of  virgin  forest, 
now  through  little  Malay  villages,  now  up  and  down  hills 
through  a  sort  of  Holstein  landscape,  in  the  midst  of 
which,  in  a  gloomy  upturned  field,  an  abandoned  tin  mine 
several  times  appeared.  They  passed  the  black  stifling 
nights  in  the  rest-houses  with  little  enough  comfort.  Two 
faithful  Hindus  of  the  Kling  stock  and  a  rather  old 
Chinaman  accompanied  them  as  agents. 

On  the  way  they  saw  several  mines  in  which  the  tin, 
which  lay  like  grains  in  the  sandy  ground,  was  being 
washed  out  with  water-power.  With  the  aid  of  their 
Chinaman,  they  tried  to  get  all  the  information  they  could 
about  water-power,  workmen,  wages,  salary,  and  values. 

On  the  fourth  day,  not  in  very  good  case,  they  reached 
the  mine.  They  sent  at  once  for  several  of  the  workmen 
and  investigated  the  extent  of  the  mine  and  the  amount 
of  tin,  and  the  available  water-power.  They  made  several 
smelting  experiments,  and  questioned  the  men  that  lived 
there  very  carefully.  On  the  fifth  day  they  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  they  would  keep  the  mine  and  work  it 
themselves,  since  they  were  right  there  on  the  place  and 
were  young  and  energetic,  and  since  the  necessary  working 
capital  was  not  estimated  at  more  than  a  hundred  thousand 
marks.  That  evening  they  sat  together  with  a  rather 
weak  whiskey  and  soda,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
neither  was  in  very  good  shape,  they  felt  fairly  content 
for  the  first  time  on  the  trip. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  233 

But  the  next  morning  Klaus  woke  to  find  Karl  Eschen 
standing  beside  his  bed.  Karl  complained  that  he  had 
had  a  severe  attack  of  dysentery,  that  the  cholera  drops 
he  had  taken  hadn't  done  him  any  good,  and  that  he  had 
had  a  bad  night.  He  tried  to  go  around  Klaus  Baas  to 
get  to  his  bed,  but  stumbled  against  Klaus's  feet  and  fell 
helpless  on  his  knees. 

Klaus  Baas  jumped  up  and  helped  him  back  to  bed. 
Then  he  waked  the  people  in  the  next  shed,  and  questioned 
the  sleepy  Chinaman  about  a  doctor  and  native  remedies. 
He  sent  the  two  Klings  out  into  the  driving  rain,  appar- 
ently with  no  more  definite  aim  than  to  see  whether  a 
doctor  or  else  a  man  who  knew  something  about  the  sick- 
ness might  be  in  one  of  the  rest-houses  near  them.  While 
he  was  hunting  in  the  little  medicine  chest,  the  sick  man 
told  him  that  he  had  been  struggling  against  the  disease 
for  some  weeks,  and  had  taken  medicine  for  it,  with  no 
effect.  But  his  brother  had  urged  him  to  settle  matters 
at  the  mine  one  way  or  another.  Karl  had  to  get  up  again 
and  again,  and  he  was  already  so  weak  that  he  had  to 
support  himself  upon  Klaus's  arm.  Klaus  Baas  saw  that 
all  night  he  had  passed  what  seemed  to  be  almost  plain 
blood.  He  decided,  if  he  could  manage  it  in  any  way  at 
all,  to  set  off  back  to  the  coast  with  or  without  the  sick 
man's  consent. 

But  when  evening  came,  fever  set  in,  and  by  midnight 
Karl  Eschen's  strength  had  declined  so  much  that  he  was 
delirious.  In  his  fever  he  talked  about  death  as  though 
it  were  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  With  un- 
natural calm  he  asked  Klaus  Baas  "  when  it  is  all  over"  to 
take  the  money  and  read  the  letters  he  had  in  his  pocket. 
Then  he  collected  himself,  dictated  a  power  of  attorney, 
and  signed  it.  "  To-morrow,'"  he  said,  "  is  the  first  day  I 
was  going  to  do  something  for  our  firm,  and  now  I  must 
die  to-day."  After  a  while  he  said,  "  My  brother  is  not  a 
bad  business  man,  but  he  isn't  firm  with  his  wife.  You 
will  get  somewhere,  Baas.  If  you  succeed,  look  after  my 
mother  a  little  ;  it's  horrible  to  think  that  she  may  come 
to  want."     Klaus  Baas  seized  the  hot  hand  and  promised 


234  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

faithfully  to  look  after  her.  Then  he  clasped  Karl's  hand 
tighter  and  told  him  that  he  was  going  to  get  well  again 
and  that  they  would  go  home  together.  But  he  couldn't 
bear  to  look  upon  Karl's  suffering  any  longer,  and  went 
out  in  front  of  the  tent. 

For  years  he  had  not  prayed  —  had  not  had  any  religious 
feeling  whatever.  Now,  standing  there  in  the  pouring 
rain,  staring  out  into  the  black  night,  he  tried  to  pray.  But 
the  tempest  broke  loose  again.  The  lightning  flashed 
through  the  air  like  quivering  torches ;  the  thunder 
crashed  with  ungodly  force  and  speed.  In  the  silence 
between  the  crashes  the  monkeys  in  the  wood  sent  their 
ugly  hoarse  cries  through  the  night.  From  farther  off 
came  the  wild  roar  of  a  tiger.  It  seemed  to  Klaus  that 
the  God  of  his  native  land  was  not  here,  had  naught  to  say 
here,  and  could  not  be  reached  in  the  midst  of  voices  like 
these.  Yet  passionately,  in  keen  torment,  his  soul  cried 
out  at  random  to  "  God  and  all  the  powers  "  for  the  life  of 
his  comrade,  "whom  I  love  so  tremendously." 

But  he  went  inside,  still  uncomforted  —  feeling,  indeed, 
as  if  he  had  been  driven  back  and  confused.  He  found 
Karl  raving  in  delirium.  He  was  telling  his  mother  and 
sister  about  his  experiences  in  India.  Then  he  wrote  a 
long  letter  to  his  brother,  telling  him  not  to  part  with  the 
mine  at  a  sacrifice  so  that  his  wife  might  go  to  Paris  and 
buy  bronzes  and  silk  petticoats.  He  lay  there  restlessly 
for  a  long  time,  agonizing  in  a  bed  of  his  own  blood. 

When  a  slight  but  clear  fresh  breeze  sprang  up  toward 
morning,  Klaus  had  Karl  carried  out  of  the  hut  and  sat 
with  him  under  the  open  sky.  The  sick  man's  head  be- 
came a  little  clearer.  He  recognized  that  death  was  near, 
and  charged  Klaus  Baas  again  with  greetings  for  his  family. 
Then  he  lost  himself  in  visions  ;  on  the  Alster  he  saw  his 
sail  standing  to  a  good  breeze  ;  and  he  called  to  his  friends 
in  another  boat.  Then,  at  tlie  Henley  races  on  the  Thames, 
he  couldn't  find  the  right  gangplank.  Gradually  he  sank 
into  a  subdued  moaning.  As  if  from  a  distance  he  called 
several  times  for  his  mother.  Then  the  young  strong 
body  suddenly  collapsed ;  his  breathing  became  slower  and 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  235 

more  difficult,  until  at  last  it  came  only  with  great  effort. 
Then  it  ceased  altogether.  Klaus  Baas  crouched  beside 
him  for  a  while  longer,  staring  breathlessly.  Then  he 
got  up. 

For  about  an  hour  he  paced  up  and  down  before  the 
dead  man,  sighing  heavily.  Every  once  in  a  while  he 
stopped,  bent  over  Karl,  and  looked  in  his  face,  then  went 
on  walking  back  and  forth,  wringing  his  hands,  or  clasp- 
ing them  to  his  head.  His  poor  mother  !  thoughts  of  this 
sort  pursued  Klaus's  soul  like  hounds.  "  Oh,  God,  his  poor 
mother  !  How  can  I  tell  her?  His  poor  sisters!  Dread- 
ful —  horrible  !  And  I  —  what  shall  I  do  ?  My  only 
friend  !  What  shall  I  do  now  ?  Send  the  news  down  to 
the  coast !  He  has  helped  me  always — from  the  first  day 
of  my  apprenticeship  it  has  always  been  Karl.  Not  an- 
other soul!  No  one  else  has  concerned  himself  about  mu. 
But  oh,  his  poor  mother!  What  shall  I  do  ?  Send  the 
news  to  the  coast !  —  I  must  bury  him  here." 

He  went  into  the  hut  and  wrote  a  short  despatch,  telling 
of  the  death  and  of  the  power  to  act  that  Karl  had  given 
him.  He  put  the  paper  in  his  pocket  again  however,  and 
went  over  the  field  to  look  for  a  place  for  the  grave.  He 
searched  for  a  while,  then  went  back  again  and  gazed  upon 
the  dead  man,  then  returned,  and  after  a  long  time  finally 
selected  a  place  for  the  grave  between  the  great  roots  of  a 
tremendous  waringa  standing  halfway  up  a  gentle  slope. 
People  would  certainly  let  that  alone,  he  thought.  He 
returned  to  the  hut  and  found  that  the  two  Klings  and 
the  Chinaman  had  returned.  With  their  help  he  carried 
the  dead  man  to  the  place  he  had  chosen,  himself  helped 
to  dig  the  grave,  and  laid  him,  covered  with  his  cloak,  in 
the  deep  brown  earth.  In  a  voice  that  grew  huskier  with 
every  word,  he  repeated  "  Our  Father"  in  German.  He 
no  longer  knew  the  benediction,  so  he  said  only,  "  Fare- 
well, my  comrade.     God  be  with  thee." 

He  sent  the  men  back  to  the  hut,  and  seating  himself  on 
one  of  the  big  roots  which  projected  a  foot  or  so  above  the 
ground,  he  took  out  a  piece  of  paper  and  proceeded  to 
designate  the  exact  situation   of  the  grave  according  to 


236  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

the  points  of  the  compass  and  all  possible  landmarks. 
Then  he  wrote  in  his  pocket  memorandum  minute  instruc- 
tions to  go  to  the  chief  and  from  him  on  to  Hamburg. 
Since  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  make  ever3'thing  per- 
fectly plain,  he  became  calmer  while  he  was  writing  this. 
The  high  tension  in  which  his  soul  had  been  for  the  past 
twenty-four  hours  was  relaxed,  and  he  wrote  the  rest  of  the 
necessary  account,  which  was  about  business,  with  a  clear 
head. 

Then  he  sat  there  looking  across  the  grave,  with  a  feel- 
ing of  cold  bitterness.  So  this  was  life!  In  a  few  hours 
all  a  man's  strength,  work,  ambition,  hopes, — all  swept 
away.  And  that  was  God's  doing!  Oh,  well,  God  ! 
What  God  ?  Oh,  good  heavens !  One  must  just  hold  fast 
to  the  present  and  see  what  he  can  make  out  of  that.  Up 
to  this  time  Klaus  had  had  much  to  make  him  happy  — ■ 
a  good  father  and  mother,  the  help  of  the  artist,  the  friend- 
ship of  this  good  man.  Now  he  stood  entirely  alone. 
Now  he  himself  must  take  hold  keenly  and  wisely.  Earn 
money!  What  could  he  do?  How  could  he  take  hold  of 
this  business  and  put  it  through  ?  He  had  the  power  to 
act,  but  he  had  no  money  to  cari-y  on  the  thing.  And  he 
could  hardly  assume  that  Arthur  Eschen  would  send  it  to 
him. 

As  he  was  sitting  there  in  indecision,  he  saw  three 
strange  men  strolling  along  the  top  of  the  hill  talking  to 
the  Chinaman  and  the  Klings.  Then  they  came  across 
the  sunken  fields  toward  him.  One  of  them  was  a  middle- 
aged  Englisliman  who  had  been  pointed  out  to  him  on  the 
coast  as  a  mine  owner  and  a  man  who  knew  more  about 
mines  than  any  one  else  in  the  country.  Another  was  a 
German  who  had  also  been  on  the  coast  with  the  other 
man,  and  who  had  been  pointed  out  to  Klaus  as  a  prospec- 
tor of  some  reputation.  He  was  a  shaggy,  bold-looking 
fellow  in  a  close-fitting  khaki  suit  and  worn  leggings.  The 
third  man  was  an  old  Chinaman.  They  came  up,  and 
sitting  down  on  the  roots  beside  the  newl}^  made  grave, 
asked  Klaus  who  was  the  owner  of  the  mine.  When  Klaus 
Baas  said  that  the  man  who  had  just  been  buried  had  been 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  237 

part  owner  with  full  authority,  the  Englishman  said  con- 
solingly, "  Well,  then,  he's  lying  on  his  own  ground  and 
soil  —  something  that  doesn't  happen  to  every  one  by  a 
long  shot."  "Right  among  his  own  tin,"  said  the  China- 
man. The  German  only  said  boldly,  "Well, —  what  are 
you?" 

Klaus  Baas  caught  a  look  which  the  Chinaman  threw 
the  German.  It  said  plainly,  "Go  slow."  While  he  was 
trying  to  think  of  some  way  in  which  he  could  use  these 
people,  and  was  uncertainly  hunting  for  words,  —  shaken 
as  he  was  by  his  dreadful  experience,  —  it  struck  him  that 
he  was  talking  and  looking  like  a  slow  sort  of  fellow. 
And  since  he  had  begun  to  talk  in  this  way  he  kept  it  up, 
dimly  conscious  that  he  could  in  this  way  entice  them  on 
and  then  suddenly  surprise  them.  So  he  drawled  on  with 
a  stealthily  growing  sense  of  grim  satisfaction.  He  asked 
simple-minded  questions,  and  made  innocent  objections 
here  and  there.  And  several  times,  as  if  he  did  not  know 
a  single  mining  expression,  he  would  ask,  "  How  is  it, 
now,  they  say  that  ?  "  Impelled  further  by  his  role,  he 
indicated  that  he  didn't  care  for  the  Esclien  family,  and 
didn't  really  know  what  he  was  going  to  do  with  the 
authority  conferred  upon  him  by  the  dead  man.  In  pure 
sport,  in  nothing  but  the  joy  of  artifice,  —  for  in  people  of 
his  kind,  gravity  and  folly  are  like  brother  and  sister  —  he 
seized  a  yellow  board  lying  near,  drew  out  his  knife 
mechanically,  and  began  to  carve  on  it.  In  a  confiding, 
childlike  way  he  told  them  that  he  had  wanted  to  be  a 
wood-carver,  but  that  he  was  an  orphan  and  a  distant  rela- 
tive of  the  Eschen  family,  and  they  had  decided  he  must 
be  a  merchant. 

"  If  the  mine  were  of  any  value,"  said  the  Englishman, 
casually,  "  it  would  certainly  be  best  in  these  circum- 
stances, if  the  owner  were  to  sell  it." 

The  two  others  laughed,  and  said,  "  Who's  going  to  bid 
on  it?" 

Klaus  Baas  disposed  of  that  idea  by  a  gesture  with  his 
knife  :  "  That  Eschen  family  is  convinced  that  the  mine 
is  worth  ten  thousand  pounds  —  and  why  sell  it  anyway, 


238  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

they  think.     Eschens  won't  do  that  —  out   of   pride,  if 
nothing  else.     Tliat's  sure." 

They  were  silent  for  a  while.  Then  the  Englishman 
began  again,  as  casually  as  if  he  were  speaking  of  the 
match  which  he  threw  on  Karl  Eschen's  grave.  "  Then 
why  don't  you  begin  to  work  the  mine  ?  You  have  the 
authority." 

Klaus  Baas  made  a  meditative  gash  in  the  wood.  "  I 
don't  know  anything  about  it,"  he  said  slowly  and  peev- 
ishly, "and  I'm  not  interested  in  it.  And  besides,  Eschens 
have  no  confidence  in  me  and  won't  send  me  any  money." 

The  German  wanted  to  put  in  a  word,  but  the  China- 
man looked  at  him  and  he  kept  quiet.  The  Englishman 
emptied  the  contents  of  his  short  pipe  out  upon  the  grave 
and  said  genially,  "  Well,  now,  how  would  it  be  if  we 
took  over  the  working  of  it  ?  We  have  everything  right 
here  —  coolies,  shafts,  washers,  and  the  necessary  capital. 
We  take  over  all  the  work,  and  you  pay  us  in  tin." 

Klaus  Baas  put  on  a  puzzled  look.  "  That  would  be 
very  nice,"  he  said.  "  But  there  would  have  to  be  a  regular 
contract  —  and  it  would  have  to  be  cheap." 

Again  they  were  silent  for  a  while.  Then  the  English- 
man said,  quite  engrossed  in  lighting  his  pipe,  "  A  contract 
for  that  kind  of  thing  always  leaves  loopholes  by  which  it 
can  be  broken,  especially  as  the  payment  is  made  in  tin. 
So  we  would  make  the  condition  that  you  stay  here  and 
look  after  the  matter.  We  have  confidence  in  you,  and 
believe  that  we  can  come  to  an  agreement.  Do  you  think 
that  they  will  let  you  stay  here  ?  " 

Klaus  Baas  assumed  a  pleased  and  properly  confused 
expression  at  this  praise,  and  said  genially,  "  If  you  wish 
it,  I  can  stay  for  the  time.  At  present  there  isn't  any- 
body there  that  can  take  my  place.  Since  in  this  way  one 
of  you  will  stay  here  too,  it  won't  be  so  terribly  lonely  for 
me." 

Then  they  drew  up  the  usual  contract,  according  to 
which  they  were  to  furnish  such  and  such  a  force  of  men, 
the  necessary  machinery,  and  the  outfit  at  a  certain  price, 
and  lose  their  title  to  it  so  long  as  a  specified  quantity  of 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  239 

the  tin  was  paid  to  them  weekly,  in  kind,  or  at  a  price  to 
be  determined  by  the  markets.  Kkius,  very  much  puzzled 
and  worried,  kept  saying  that  he  hardly  knew  —  he  really 
didn't  dare  —  the  contract  would  have  to  be  favorable  to 
him,  and  without  a  flaw  —  otherwise  he  couldn't  venture 
on  it.  And  he  finally  brought  about  one  that  was  to  his 
advantage. 

The  next  day  fully  eighty  men  arrived  with  their  tools, 
built  huts,  and  began  to  dig  with  might  and  main.  The 
three  heads  urged  on  the  work  as  much  as  they  could,  evi- 
dently in  a  great  hurry  to  get  to  the  tin.  Klaus  Baas  sat 
on  the  roots  by  Karl  Eschen's  grave  and  carved,  using  as 
a  model  his  memory  of  the  crossbeam  over  the  door  of 
their  old  house  in  Heisterberg,  which  bore  this  inscription, 
ornamented  with  many  artistic  flourishes. 

Think  not  of  any  heavenly  meed, 
For  thy  reward  is  in  the  deed. 

Once  in  a  while  he  looked  over  at  the  three  urging  the 
workmen  along.  Now  and  then  the  Englishman  came 
over  for  a  few  minutes'  friendly  chat :  did  Klaus  have  any 
means  of  his  own  ?  A  little  capital  was  a  pretty  good 
thing  to  have.  At  that  Klaus  would  look  up  eagerly,  like 
a  half-deaf  man  listening  to  a  new  kind  of  music,  and  say, 
"  Well  —  yes  —  it  certainly  would  be  "  — as  if  the  money 
were  going  to  drop  out  of  a  clear  sky.  And  he  laughed  in 
his  sleeve.  He  went  calmly  around  among  the  workmen 
and  assured  himself  that  the  veins  were  strong.  Then  he 
secretly  sent  a  messenger  to  the  coast,  with  a  letter  asking 
them  to  send  him  a  reliable  man. 

Since  they  made  a  great  deal  of  haste,  and  the  weather 
was  favorable,  the  smelting  was  finished  in  fourteen  days. 
In  two  days  more  the  first  two  hundred  bars  were  loaded 
on  the  ox  carts.  Then  Klaus  threw  away  his  stick  and 
came  over.  The  Englishman  came  up  to  him  and  tried 
to  give  him  the  report  and  a  hundred  dollar  bill  at  the 
same  time.  Klaus  refused  both.  He  compared  the  report 
with  the  load  and  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  two  did  not 
agree.     He  made  a  new  count,  and  a  new  division  :    so 


240  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

much  for  them  in  payment,  and  so  much  for  the  Eschen 
firm. 

They  were  tremendously  surprised.  They  grumbled, 
and  intimated  that  with  this  sort  of  management  they 
would  soon  come  into  active  dispute. 

Klaus  Baas  answered  curtly  that  they  would  fulfil  their 
obligations  in  the  future,  or  he  would  lay  the  matter  be- 
fore the  proper  authorities.  Then  he  turned,  went  to  his 
hut,  and  sat  through  the  white  moonlight  night  on  a  camp- 
chair  with  his  revolver  at  hand,  ready  for  any  mischance. 

B}''  the  next  morning  they  had  got  over  their  huff.  All 
three  of  them  came  to  him  and  said,  not  without  humor, 
"  "Well — isn't  the  wood-carving  coming  along?  " 

Too  young,  and  lacking  the  self-confidence  to  chime  in 
with  their  mood,  he  answered  in  a  curt,  ugly  way,  "  I  am 
a  merchant  like  you." 

On  the  next  day  a  colleague  from  the  coast,  sent  by  the 
firm,  came  to  stay  with  him. 

He  sent  a  report  of  all  that  had  occurred  to  Hamburg, 
and  recommended  the  extension  of  the  mine  as  it  was 
then  in  operation.  And  every  week  he  sent  the  output  of 
tin  to  the  coast.  The  next  month  came  a  short  letter 
from  Arthur  Eschen,  conveying  scanty  thanks  to  Klaus 
for  his  information  "  concerning  the  death  of  our  dear 
brother."  The  business  would  be  settled  by  Klaus  Baas's 
ofiice.  The  office  wrote  that  they  were  commissioned  to 
sell  "  the  unlucky  mine  "  as  soon  as  possible,  and  that  they 
had  decided  to  acquire  it  themselves.  So  Klaus,  commis- 
sioned by  his  firm,  remained  at  the  mine  for  a  half  year 
longer.  Then  he  asked  for  his  return  to  the  office.  And 
so  came  his  last  day  there,  his  last  trip  to  the  grave,  and 
the  homeward  journey  to  the  coast. 

Again  he  sat  at  the  bright  3'ellow  table,  played  again  on 
the  green  grass,  and  in  the  evenings  sat  again  in  the  hall. 
He  had  grown  graver  and  more  silent,  more  deliberate  in 
speech  and  movement.  Things  would  never  be  the  same 
there  again  :  Karl  Eschen  was  gone  ;  the  fellow  from 
Oldenburg  had  gone  to  Singapore  ;  two  new  ones  tiiat  had 
come  were  too  young  and  frivolous  for  Klaus  ;  the  little 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  241 

Japanese  woman  had  gone  back  home  ;  and  his  trip  to  the 
mine,  which  might  have  brought  him  a  signal  indepen- 
dence, had  not.  So  he  sat  in  the  evenings  alone  for  many 
hours  in  his  little  room,  reading  all  kinds  of  old  maga- 
zines. He  reflected  with  no  great  degree  of  comfort  that 
he  would  have  to  wait  for  the  promotion  of  three  good 
men  ahead  of  him  before  he  could  hope  to  get  a  more  im- 
portant position  than  that  he  now  held.  And  he  thought 
it  would  probably  be  a  good  deal  wiser  to  give  up  his 
work  there  and  try  his  luck  further  in  Hamburg. 

And  so,  earlier  than  he  would  have  expected  a  year  ago, 
came  the  day  of  his  return. 

Had  four  years  really  passed  since  he  had  landed  here 
with  his  bright  dreams  ?  Could  it  be  that  over  there,  be- 
tween the  roots  of  the  waringa,  between  the  dark  blue 
wooded  hills,  Karl  Eschen  was  lying?  Had  the  office 
there  on  Beach  Street,  which  had  been  for  him  so  full  of 
puzzles  and  surprises,  nothing  more  to  offer  him  ?  Had 
the  land  in  which  he  had  hoped  and  dreamed  of  a  wonder- 
ful future  no  future  for  him  ?  Well,  it  was  bad,  and  it 
was  good  ;  that  was  the  way  it  had  happened.  He  would 
be  glad  that  he  was  going  home  in  pretty  good  health. 
He  was  still  young,  and  he  would  manage  to  find  work 
and  success  at  home. 

The  steamer  was  larger  than  the  one  that  had  brought 
him  over,  and  all  the  cabins  were  full.  There  were  rather 
young  folks,  who  were  going  home,  as  he  was ;  old  men 
or  old  couples  who  were  going  home  "  for  good."  These 
were  for  the  most  part  rather  dull  people ;  the  men  talked 
about  rates  of  exchange,  and  the  women  about  dress  and 
finery.  And  after  dinner  they  sat  down  and  gambled  for 
three  straight  hours.  There  were  also  a  German  woman 
teacher,  an  Irish  woman  missionary,  and  an  English  mer- 
chant's young  wife,  who  was  continually  rocking  her  twins 
in  a  tiny  little  hammock. 

Klaus  Baas  sat  now  with  this  one,  now  with  that,  hunt- 
ing for  talk.  He  talked  with  the  old  merchants  about 
trade  and  commerce  in  a  slow,  lazy  way.  And  he  was  in- 
structed by  their  wives  about  precious  stones.     But   he 


242  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

spent  most  of  his  time  sitting  with  the  young  English 
mother,  talking  about  her  husband,  her  children,  and  her 
father  and  mother.  He  swung  the  hammock  gently  and 
played  with  the  babies  till  he  blushed  in  surprise  at  him- 
self. And  he  ascertained,  much  to  his  own  and  the 
mother's  amazement,  that  the  babies'  blue  eyes  were 
gradually  turning  brown. 

At  noon  on  a  cloudy  day  in  midsummer,  they  reached 
Hamburg  after  a  good  passage.  He  went  with  one  of  his 
travelling  companions  to  a  hotel  and  from  there  proceeded 
at  once  to  H.  W.  Thauler's,  curious  to  see  whether  the 
firm  would  hold  out  any  prospects.  He  learned,  however, 
that  the  way  to  advancement  there  was  as  it  had  been  on 
the  coast.  And  they  made  no  attempt  to  keep  him.  His 
attempts  to  do  business  on  his  own  account  must  have 
reached  their  ears.  Rather  cast  down,  Klaus  went  on 
to  the  office  of  H.  C.  Eschen.  Arthur  plainly  had  to 
make  an  effort  to  look  at  the  man  who  had  had  in  his 
hands  the  letters  in  which  his  younger  and  more  honorable 
brother  had  remonstrated  with  him  about  some  of  his 
business  dealings  and  about  his  household  expenses.  He 
said  coldly  that  Klaus  Baas's  report  of  his  brother's  death 
had  been  so  complete  that  he  had  nothing  more  to  ask 
him.  His  motlier,  however,  might  like  to  see  him.  He 
did  not  ask  a  single  question  about  what  Klaus  had  on 
hand  now. 

Then  Klaus  started  up  the  Mittelweg,  and  was  soon 
standing  in  the  old  room  among  the  dark  oil  paintings,  in 
front  of  his  friend's  mother.  He  said  to  the  weeping 
woman  that  he  had  come  because  her  son  had  asked  it, 
and  because  he  was  obliged  to,  —  otherwise  he  would  have 
preferred  to  stay  away,  for  the  sight  of  him  could  be  only 
painful  to  her.  He  had  already  told  her  everything  as 
accurately  and  truly  as  he  could.  Then  lie  laid  three  dry 
twigs  of  the  waringa,  under  which  her  son  lay,  on  the  big, 
round  table,  and  said  in  a  hollow  and  rather  hard  voice 
that  her  son  had  begged  him  to  stand  by  her  if  she  were 
ever  in  any  trouble.  He  hoped  that  she  never  would  be 
in  trouble,  but  if  she  should  be,  he  would  do  anything  he 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  243 

could  for  the  mother  of  his  dearest  friend.  She  asked  him 
no  further  questions,  and  he  got  up  and  waited  for  her  to 
dismiss  him.  She  gave  him  a  long  look  through  her  tears, 
as  if  she  would  have  liked  to  keep  him,  or  had  something 
more  to  say.  But  then  she  gave  him  her  hand  and  pressed 
his  hard.     She  said  notliing  about  his  coming  again. 

As  he  closed  the  door  behind  him,  a  door  at  the  end  of 
the  dark  passage  opened  a  little  and  a  narrow  ray  of  even- 
ing sunlight  penetrated  along  the  hall.  He  looked,  and 
in  the  ray  of  light  he  quickly  recognized  a  girl's  head, 
with  the  loose,  light  hair  shining  in  the  light.  He  went 
out  through  the  vestibule  and  down  the  steps,  thinking 
of  the  weeping  woman  and  the  girl  in  the  ray  of  light, 
who  must  be  little  Sanna.  He  would  have  liked  to  see 
the  child  again,  since  he  had  always  been  so  comically  in- 
timate with  her.  Then  the  door  opened,  and  Klaus  heard 
hesitating  steps.  He  knew  that  it  must  be  she.  She 
hesitated  a  moment,  then  gave  herself  a  shake,  came  down 
more  quickly,  and  spoke  to  him.  He  thought  she  prob- 
ably wanted  to  ask  a  question  about  her  dead  brother. 
But  she  said  with  great  confusion,  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
Herr  Baas  —  I  want  to  ask  you  something.  Once,  four 
years  ago,  when  I  was  ten,  you  lifted  me  out  of  one  bed 
and  put  me  in  another,  didn't  you  ?  Well,  mama,  and  my 
sister,  who  is  in  Mexico  now,  and  the  maid  we  had  then, 
have  all  sworn  that  they'll  never  tell  any  one  about  it. 
You  must  swear  to  me  that  you  won't  tell  either,  Herr 
Baas. 

Klaus  looked  at  the  tall  fine-looking  child,  with  the 
strong,  rosy  mouth  and  the  slightly  projecting  teeth, 
exactly  as  if  he  were  looking  at  a  grown  lady.  "  I  will 
indeed,"  he  said  politely,  "  but  why  ?  " 

She  looked  down,  and  said  importantly,  though  in  some 
confusion  :  "  There's  a  friend  of  mine  —  I  should  be 
ashamed  to  death  if  he  found  it  out.  Besides,  he  would 
be  madly  jealous.  Please,  Herr  Baas  !  It  would  be  beau- 
tiful if  you  would  swear  to  me  that  you  won't  tell." 

"Then  I  swear  it,"  Klaus  said,  giving  lier  his  hand,  and 
holding  hers  fast,  while  she  turned  her  head  away.     Still 


244  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

holding  her  hand,  he  asked  jokingly,  "  Can  you  still  imitate 
tigers  and  lions,  as  you  could  when  you  were  six  years 
old  ?  "  But  she  twisted  her  hand  out  of  his,  shyl}^,  almost 
in  distress,  and  went  up  the  steps  again.  With  a  bitter 
look,  Klaus  shook  his  head.  "Strange,  proud  people!  " 
he  said,  and  went  on  his  way. 

It  was  evening  when  he  finally  reached  his  own  family, 
whom  he  found  in  a  larger  fiat  in  Wex  Strasse.  He  was 
amazed  to  see  how  the  children  had  grown  and  developed. 
His  mother,  too,  had  grow^n  stouter.  He  sat  beside  her  at 
her  sewing  table,  asking  questions  and  enduring  the  ques- 
tions of  the  youngsters.  He  learned  that  the  artist  was 
dead;  that  Kalli  Dau  was  second  mate  on  a  ship  that  had 
passed  his  steamer  in  the  Suez  Canal.  He  had  to  get  up 
and  look  at  the  room  which  Hanna  now  had  to  herself. 
She  had  grown  to  be  a  plump  little  teacher,  a  trifle  pale, 
with  straight  light  hair  and  soft  nice  eyes.  Antje  Baas 
sat  there  sewing  and  sewing,  not  saying  very  much,  but 
looking  up  now  and  then  with  assumed  indifference  at  the 
homecomer.  He  had  to  tell  stories  till  thirteen-year-old 
Fritz,  who  was  standing  inside  his  arm,  fell  asleep  with 
his  head  on  his  shoulder. 

After  he  had  rested  a  day  and  had  got  to  rights,  he 
went  to  P.  C.  Trimborn's  olTice.  He  learned  that  in  spite 
of  his  years  his  old  chief  had  again  made  the  long  voyage 
to  the  South  Sea,  and  that  they  had  no  place  for  him. 
Klaus  was  much  cast  down  at  his  ill  luck.  He  questioned 
his  acquaintances  here  and  there,  but  found  nothing  that 
would  do.  After  a  week  of  this  he  saw  that  for  the  pres- 
ent, at  least,  there  was  nothing  left  but  to  take  a  place  in 
one  of  the  big  banks  or  shipping  companies  —  one  of  those 
many  small-salaried  places  in  which  a  man  can  seldom,  if 
ever,  show  that  he  has  an  idea  or  a  will  of  his  own.  His 
mother  soon  began  to  look  down  on  him  with  some  scorn. 

One  day,  when,  after  a  vain  excursion,  he  was  coming 
down  the  Alsterdamm,  he  turned  in  at  the  Cafe  Belvedere. 
He  sat  there  thinking  about  his  future  and  vexing  himself 
about  the  waiter,  who  was  serving  him  in  a  rather  slovenly 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  245 

way.  "  If  my  boy  had  dared  to  stand  in  front  of  me  that 
way  !  "  he  thought.  He  felt  —  as  every  one  feels  in  coming 
back  home  from  a  semi-cultivated  life — the  limitation  of 
home.  He  pondered  this  way  and  that  what  he  was  going 
to  do,  and  finally  went  back  to  the  not  altogether  pleasing 
idea  that  it  would  be  better  to  go  across  seas  again  and 
accept  a  little  place  in  Brazil,  in  regard  to  which  he  was 
going  to  speak  to  an  acquaintance  here  in  the  cafe.  As 
he  was  staring  out  the  window  across  the  sunny  Jung- 
fernstieg,  he  saw  coming  over  from  the  arcade  a  tall  thin 
man  in  a  black  coat,  with  long  tails  flying  out  at  the  side 
keeping  time  with  his  somewhat  sprawling  legs.  The 
evening  sun  shone  through  the  ears  standing  roundly  out 
from  his  head.  To  Klaus,  in  his  depression,  he  was 
like  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  He  stood  up  and  beckoned 
to  him. 

Heini  Peters  was  delighted.  He  asked  about  Karl 
Eschen's  death,  and  told  what  he  knew  about  their  com- 
mon acquaintances.  But  pretty  soon  he  was  back  to  his 
own  affairs,  which  had  always  interested  him  more  than 
anything  else.  "  I've  got  a  little  office  of  my  own  now, 
Baas,  a  little  agency  in  kitchen  ware,  along  with  my  friend 
Busch.     You  don't  know  him.     He's  a  fine  fellow." 

Klaus  Baas  wanted  to  know  how  the  business  went. 

Heini  Peters  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said  medita- 
tively, "  The  old  folks  have  to  help  out  a  little  once  in  a 
while,  but  they're  glad  to  do  it,  Klaus.  I'm  hoping  it 
will  be  better  in  time." 

"  You  pay  too  much  attention  to  things  that  aren't  busi- 
ness," said  Klaus,  reprovingly. 

Heini  Peters  nodded  gravely,  and  said,  suddenly  turned 
sentimental,  "  I've  put  it  through,  Baas  !  Do  you  know 
that  our  great  poet's  mother  now  lies  buried  in  our  ceme- 
tery ?  She  isn't  among  the  nameless  any  longer.  She  is 
lying  under  the  the  big  linden  where  the  paths  cross.  I 
go  there  day  after  to-morrow  to  assist  at  the  dedication  of 
the  monument.  Say,  boy,  I've  an  idea  —  come  along  with 
me  !  jNIy  old  folks  will  like  it  tremendously,  and  so  will 
several  little  girls  !     Charming  little  girls,  I  tell  you  !     I've 


246  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

often  told  them  about  you.  Come  on,  now,  come  along. 
You're  still  looking  kind  of  tired  and  under  the  weather. 
A  week  of  fresh  North  Sea  air  will  do  you  good." 

"  A  week,  man  ! "  said  Klaus,  condescendingly,  stroking 
his  beard,  "  I  can't  stick  it  out  as  long  as  that  in  that  little 
nest." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

The  town  was  situated  on  an  open  level  stretch  of  fields 
bright  with  the  green  of  May.  A  fresh  breeze  blowing  in 
from  the  ocean  rustled  the  trees  stretching  away,  some- 
times singly,  sometimes  in  clumps  and  rows,  past  the  low 
red  houses.  The  town  had  a  great  many  streets,  which, 
however,  seemed  to  be  rather  empty.  On  the  square  stood 
the  big,  unwieldy  church,  in  comparison  with  which  a  farm 
wagon  close  by  looked  like  a  mere  child's  toy. 

"  Look,"  said  Heini  Peters,  pointing  his  long  arm  at  an 
old  gray  house  plainly  centuries  old,  "•  there  are  the  old 
folks  at  the  door  —  bless  them  !  They're  getting  along  in 
years,  Klaus.  They  didn't  marry  till  pretty  late.  Bless 
their  hearts  —  why,  it  would  kill  them  if  I  was  to  cross  the 
ocean."  He  waved  his  hat,  and  his  long  coat  tails  waved 
too.  "  I'm  bringing  along  the  Indian,"  he  cried  to  them. 
"  He's  still  sunburned,  and  a  bit  parched." 

The  two  old  folks  shook  Klaus's  hand  and  led  him  at  once 
to  the  table  where  dinner  was  set.  They  questioned  him 
about  his  trip,  and  Heini's  mother  kept  saying,  "  Good 
heavens,  Heini,  what  if  you  had  to  make  a  trip  like  that!  " 
And  they  asked  him  about  his  family  and  about  every- 
thing that  he  and  Heini  had  done  together.  And  Klaus 
Baas  sat  there  comfortably,  well  pleased  with  the  place 
and  the  time.  He  looked  around  him,  now  at  the  attrac- 
tive, well  covered  table,  now  at  the  pretty  pictures  on  the 
wall,  now  at  the  three  kindly  people,  who  treated  each 
other  with  such  droll  solicitude,  urging  each  other  to  have 
some  more  of  the  light  red  wine  —  "Oh,  lliank  you,  you're 
so  kind  !  "  "  Look  out  for  yourself,  father  !  "  "  You  aren't 
looking  out  for  yourself  a  bit,  child  ! "  "  Come  now,  Heini 
dear,  just  one  more  little  sip  !  " 

247 


248  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

After  dinner  Heini  Peters  took  Klaus  by  the  arm  to 
show  him  the  sights  of  the  town.  They  were,  first,  the 
church,  which  had  formerly  been  the  place  of  worship  for 
the  whole  country-side.  Now  it  was  far  too  large  for  the 
purpose  it  served ;  yet,  old  and  crumbling  as  it  was,  it  was 
the  pride  of  the  town.  Then  there  was  the  old  farm-house, 
with  its  hanging  thatched  roof,  its  elegant  masonry,  and 
beautifully  carved  beams.  They  had  found  it  out  in  the 
country  beside  a  little  grove  of  oaks,  near  a  lonely  village. 
It  had  been  passed  over  by  the  devastating  hand  of  time, 
and  they  had  brought  it  here  and  placed  it  under  the  old 
linden,  so  that  it  and  the  contents  of  its  old  hall  and 
rooms  might  show  the  life  and  customs  of  their  fore- 
fathers. There  was  the  county  court-house,  which  in 
its  strength  and  placidity  was  a  fair  type  of  these  solid 
people.  And  there  was  the  newly  built  schoolhouse,  in 
the  pleasant  rooms  of  which  —  or,  at  playtime,  under  the 
young  lindens  —  the  young  people  of  the  little  town  col- 
lected. On  the  street  leading  to  the  harbor  there  were 
several  rather  ambitious  industries,  some  old,  others  newer. 
There  was  a  coal  importing  business,  a  big  joinery,  two 
grain  houses,  and  an  imposing  woodyard  with  great  stocks 
of  beams  and  huge  piles  of  laths.  "Here,"  said  Heini 
Peters,  pointing  to  a  fine-looking  house  next  to  the  wood- 
yard,  "  here  lives  the  prettiest  girl  in  town.  She's  a  charm- 
ing creature.  She  was  standing  at  the  window  looking  at 
us  just  now.  Now  she's  gone.  I've  often  told  her  about 
you.  Well,  you'll  see  her.  Now  we'll  go  on  to  the  ceme- 
tery." 

The  cemetery  was  also  full  of  lindens.  A  straight  line 
of  them  surrounded  it ;  here  and  there  they  stood  between 
graves ;  and  some  especially  tall  and  beautiful  ones  bor- 
dered paths  diagonally  across  it. 

If  Heini  Peters  had  been  roused  before,  he  was  now  ab- 
solutely inspired.  His  voice  was  low  with  emotion,  and 
his  long  stride  had  something  solemn  about  it.  He  showed 
Klaus  the  sexton's  house  —  a  red  roof  deep  in  the  green 
shadow  of  the  trees.  "  Here,"  he  said,  "•  lives  my  dearest 
friend.     No  one  else  knows  so  much  about  this  cemetery 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  249 

as  we  two.  And  no  one  else  loves  it  as  we  do."  He 
took  Klaus  to  a  big  white  bench  turned  toward  the  sunset 
and  commanding-  a  view  of  the  whole  cemetery  covered 
with  yellow  dandelions.  "  We  sit  here  for  hours  at  a 
time,"  he  said.  "  Ah,  when  the  sun  goes  down  and  the 
clouds  burn  around  it,  and  each  one  of  the  little  mounds 
casts  its  shadow,  and  we  sit  and  talk  about  the  dead  — 
there  are  no  more  beautiful  hours  than  those.  Do  jon 
see  that  vault,"  he  whispered,  "  that  one  over  there  ? 
Forty  years  ago  the}^  buried  there  a  big,  heavy  man 
named  Daniel  Tamp.  He  was  one  of  the  most  distin- 
guished men  hereabouts,  and  he  weighed  two  hundred 
pounds.  Now  what  do  you  think  :  three  years  ago,  when 
I  was  walking  up  and  down  these  paths  with  my  friend 
one  autumn  evening,  I  saw  that  the  side  wall  of  the  vault 
had  collapsed.  We  opened  it  up  a  little  more  and  went 
in.  We  wanted  to  see  what  was  left  now  of  that  huge 
man.  We  raised  the  coffin  lid,  and  what  do  you  think 
was  left  of  him  —  of  that  big,  fat,  distinguished  man?" 
He  snapped  his  fingers  and  laughed  low  and  merrily. 
"  Well,  nothing  at  all  — not  so  much  as  that !  He  owned 
two  farms,  and  he  weighed  two  hundred  pounds.  And 
three  preachers  followed  him  to  the  grave.  And  not  a 
thing  left  —  nothing.  A  tiny  little  bit  of  mouldy  earth 
—  not  more  than  a  handful.  Now  where  was  he,  say  ?  " 
Still  laughing,  Heini  went  on,  stood  still  a  moment,  and 
then  said  again  in  a  low  voice  :  "  Now  just  look  at  this 
grave.  There's  another  story.  On  one  of  the  farms  near 
here  there  was  a  weak-minded,  lame  girl.  She  played  all 
her  life  long  —  and  she  lived  till  she  was  nearly,  sixty  — 
with  a  great  big  horse-chain  ;  didn't  do  another  thing  the 
whole  day  but  sit  and  play  with  that  chain,  which  got  as 
shiny  as  silver  from  the  constant  handling.  When  at  last 
she  died,  people  naturally  didn't  want  to  have  that  chain 
around,  so  they  buried  it  with  her.  Now  just  think  of  it. 
Suppose  the  day  comes  when  they'll  be  digging  and  work- 
ing here,  and  suppose  they  find  that  heavy  chain.  What 
will  they  think  ?  Why,  they'll  think  of  murder  and 
homicide   and   imprisonment,  and  see  —  it  was   just  her 


250  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

plaything.  And  they'll  never  conceive  that  for  once  the 
truth  Avas  stranger  than  their  imagination."  He  laughed 
to  himself  and  went  on  to  the  end  of  the  row,  where  there 
were  several  uncared-for  graves.  Then  he  pointed  to  a 
grave  which  still  kept  its  shape,  though  it  was  covered 
with  grass  and  dandelions.  "Now,"  he  said,  seizing 
Klaus's  arm,  "  just  look  at  this  grave.  There  was  an  old 
woman  here  that  everybody  knew  because  she  had  the 
strangest  way  of  always  looking  on  the  wrong  side  of 
things  —  always  on  the  lookout  for  ill  luck  or  trouble. 
And  she  didn't  criticise  only  the  present  state  of  things — 
she  didn't  prophesy  anything  but  misery  to  come.  She 
went  around  here  as  glum  as  you  please  and  everybody 
tried  to  keep  out  of  her  way.  And  no  wonder,  for  she 
passed  the  same  judgment  on  everybody  else's  doings  and 
hopes  that  she  passed  on  her  own  —  her  continual  'It's 
all  upside  down.'  Well,  she  died,  and  was  buried  here  in 
this  grave.  While  she  was  being  buried,  the  pastor  and 
my  friend  the  sexton  didn't  happen  to  be  watching  the 
operation  very  closely  because  there  were  some  children 
running  around  in  the  graveyard.  And  so  it  happened 
that  the  pall-bearers  let  the  coffin  down  into  the  grave  with 
the  head  pointed  to  the  west.  Of  course  the  pastor  and 
my  friend  saw  it  at  once.  They  exchanged  a  glance  which 
said  plainly,  'The  old  lady's  playing  us  one  more  trick.' 
But  then  they  exchanged  another  glance  which  undoubt- 
edly meant,  'It  serves  her  right.  She  shall  just  lie  that 
way.  She's  pestered  such  a  lot  of  folks  with  her  everlast- 
ing 'It's  all  upside  down,'  and  she  can  just  lie  upside 
down  in  her  grave.'  So  they  filled  up  the  grave  and 
thought  everything  was  all  right.  But  one  Sunday 
evening  a  short  time  after  this,  when  I  happened  to  come 
over  from  Hamburg  and  came  to  see  my  friend,  he  con- 
fessed to  me  that  thinking  about  the  old  lady  left  him  no 
peace.  It  bothered  him  because,  in  the  first  place,  she 
had  always  prophesied  bad  luck  and  had  now  fulfilled  the 
prophecy  herself  in  lying  wrong  end  to  in  her  grave ;  and 
secondly,  because  she  must  be  having  some  kind  of  exist- 
ence somewhere  now  and  was  probably  calling  down  all 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  251 

kinds  of  bad  luck  on  his  head  and  the  pastor's.  And  then 
besides,  what  if  there  should  be  a  resurrection  right  here 
in  the  cemetery  and  all  the  dead  should  stand  right  up 
with  their  faces  pointed  to  the  east,  out  of  which  the 
Messiah  is  to  come,  or  where  the  sun  rises,  or  whatever 
way  you  want  to  put  it ;  and  suppose  the  old  lady  should 
be  the  only  one  pointed  the  wrong  way,  —  why,  she  might 
go  crazy,  or  get  mighty  troublesome,  and  let  loose  at  him, 
if  he  were  standing  there  too  —  and  Lord  knows  what 
mightn't  happen.  He  simply  couldn't  reason  it  out,  and 
it  nearly  drove  him  out  of  his  wits.  Well,  the  upshot 
w^as  that  one  night  we  got  two  of  the  neighbors,  dug  up 
the  old  lady,  and  put  her  right  about."  Heini  laughed 
and  snapped  his  fingers.  "  Isn't  that  the  craziest  thing 
you  ever  heard  ?     Now  isn't  it  ?     Come,  let's  go  on." 

"  And  now  look  here,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  solemn 
unction,  as  he  pointed  to  a  newly  made  grave  in  a  beauti- 
ful spot  at  the  cross-road,  under  the  shadow  of  a  mighty 
linden.  A  monument  wreathed  with  flowers  read  "  Here 
lies  the  mother  of  the  mighty  poet  !  "  Heini  laid  his  long 
thin  hand  on  the  stone.  "  She  w^as  lying  over  yonder 
among  the  paupers,"  he  said.  "  I  arranged  to  have  her 
transferred  ;  and  now  she  is  resting  here.  I  am  proud 
that  Providence  singled  me  out  to  accomplish  this  honor. 
And  I  invited  you  here  to-day,  Klaus,  and  brought  you  to 
the  cemetery,  just  because  the  monument  is  to  be  dedi- 
cated to-day." 

And  indeed  all  kinds  of  people,  old  and  young,  in  their 
Sunday  clothes,  were  gradually  appearing  in  the  several 
roads  that  led  to  the  cemetery.  They  wandered  up  and 
down  the  side  paths,  stopped  here  and  there  at  a  grave, 
then  collected  and  came  toward  the  cross-road.  Soon  a 
solemn  little  procession  came  up  the  linden  walk. 
First  came  gayly  dressed  little  girls  carrying  baskets  of 
flowers,  and  accompanied  by  their  teacher.  Behind  them 
came  the  members  of  the  city  council  and  the  pastors. 
Then  one  of  the  pastors  stepped  forward,  took  off  his 
velvet  cap,  and,  in  a  weighty  speech,  commemorated  the 
mother  and  her  son.     He  proved  that  it  is  quite  possible 


252  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

for  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  provided  he  is  himself  a 
strong  personality  and  a  social  force,  to  penetrate  the 
dense  barrier  of  church  doctrine  and  to  understand  an- 
other strong  personality  and  social  force,  even  though 
such  a  one  has  gone  his  way  quite  remote  from  all 
religious  doctrine  and  all  conventional  ideas. 

Klaus  Baas,  however,  was  twenty-six  years  old.  He 
had  been  for  four  years  far  away  from  home  and  from  the 
white-skinned  Holstein  girls.  And  so  it  happened  that 
he  found  all  this  vastly  unnecessary  —  the  crass  senti- 
mentality of  Heini  Peters,  who  during  the  pastor's  address 
studied  the  monument  with  deep  emotion,  and  the  solemn- 
ity of  the  whole  thing.  The  pastor's  speech  he  thought 
extravagant.  What  a  to-do  about  two  dead  people, 
he  thought.  And  he  looked  around  him  at  the  j^oung 
people  standing  in  groups  between  the  graves.  In  an 
older  part  of  the  cemetery  across  the  main  road,  he  spied  a 
prettily  dressed  girl  with  light  brown  hair,  standing  with 
two  or  three  companions  beside  a  tall  dark  hedge  of  yew. 
There  was  a  delicate  charm  in  her  fine  face  and  her  well 
shaped  head.  And  she  seemed  the  more  appealing 
because  she  was  a  bit  embarrassed,  for  she  had  by  mis- 
take got  nearer  to  the  ceremonies  than  she  wanted  to  be, 
and  yet  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  give  up  her 
high  position  on  the  old  grave.  While  he  Vv'as  staring  at 
the  pretty  vision,  some  one  must  have  whispered  to  her, 
"  He's  looking  at  you,"  for  she  cast  a  pretty,  shy,  startled 
glance  across  at  him.  His  heart  jumped  into  his  throat. 
"  That's  certainly  the  girl  that  lives  in  the  house  next 
to  the  woodyard,"  he  thought.  "  She's  heard  of  me,  and 
she  saw  me  a  little  while  ago.  What  a  dear  beautiful 
girl  she  is  !  " 

He  glanced  across  at  Heini  Peters,  whose  red  head  was 
still  sunk  under  the  burden  of  memory  and  of  his  own 
good  deed.  Then  Klaus  noiselessly  stepped  back,  and 
without  looking  up,  gained  the  outside  of  the  ceremonial 
circle.  He  took  a  position  from  which  he  could  see  all  of 
her  ;  her  little  brown  hand  lying  on  the  iron  railing,  her 
finely  formed,  well  curved  hips,  her  tender  bosom  under 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  253 

the  li^^ht  dress.  And  finally  she  sent  him  another  glance 
full  of  shy  curiosity.  "  Lord,  how  beautiful  she  is  !  "  he 
thought. 

The  services  ended,  and  the  old  people  went  back  to  the 
graves  they  knew.  The  children  gazed  covetously  at  the 
butterflies  fluttering  among  the  flowers  between  the 
graves.  The  dignitaries  strolled  placidly  down  the  broad 
road.  Suddenly  Klaus  Baas  saw  Heini  Peters  standing 
beside  her.  She  blushed  at  what  he  said,  and  gave  a 
little  nod.  Before  Klaus  knew  it  he  was  in  front  of  the 
little  mound  clasping  her  cool  little  hand  while  Heini 
Peters  was  saying,  "  This  is  Martje  Ruhland  of  the  wood- 
yard.  Wasn't  the  ceremony  touching,  Martje  ?  Now, 
Klaus  —  now  that  the  people  have  gone  away,  just  see 
how  the  peace  of  a  Sunday  afternoon  rests  upon  the 
graves."  And  Klaus  kept  on  holding  her  hand  and 
looking  up  with  silent  joy  into  her  eyes.  She  bowed 
in  embarrassment,  and  said,  in  a  thin  little  voice,  "  I  saw 
you  going  past  our  house  —  but  now  I  must  be  going 
home."  Holding  her  hand,  he  drew  her  down  from  the 
grave. 

They  walked  along  together,  and  he  told  her  how  he 
had  been  wanting  to  come  here  for  a  long  time,  and  now 
at  last  had  had  the  desire  and  the  opportunity  together, 
and  how  much  he  liked  to  be  there.  She  looked  up  at 
him  shyly  with  eyes  that  showed  her  whole  soul  —  a  shy, 
good  woman's  soul.  They  .passed  through  a  chestnut 
walk.  And  Klaus  was  just  saying  how  new  and  lovely 
home  seemed  to  him,  when  they  crossed  the  woodyard  with 
its  stores  of  boards  and  beams,  and  Heini  Peters  said, 
"  We'll  stop  in  and  have  coffee  at  Martje  Ruhland's." 

The  family  was  already  sitting  around  the  table.  They 
greeted  Heini  Peters  as  the  son  of  their  neighbors  and  an 
old  acquaintance.  And  they  were  very  cordial  to  the 
young  stranger.  The  father,  a  small,  beardless  man,  asked 
how  the  services  had  gone,  praised  the  pastor,  and  had 
some  fault  to  find  with  the  mayor.  The  mother,  a  pleas- 
ant little  woman,  grown  pretty  gray,  with  soft,  almost 
timid  eyes,  like  her  daughter's,  told  about  her  sons,  who, 


254  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

to  her  great  grief,  were  all  away,  but,  thank  God,  all  in 
very  good  positions.  The  oldest  was  in  a  wood  company, 
at  Kiel.  He  was  to  take  over  the  father's  business  some- 
time. The  other  two  had  a  very  prosperous  factory  in 
Berlin.  At  all  this  the  father  shook  his  head  good-hu- 
moredly.  "  Well,  well,"  he  said,  "  you  must  make  all  kinds 
of  allowances.  Mothers  always  have  a  big  opinion  of  their 
children,  and  our  mother  has  especially."  That  didn't 
bother  her  a  bit,  however,  and  she  went  on  talking  about 
her  boys.  An  older  daughter  came  in.  She  had  on  a 
black  dress,  for  she  was  already  a  widow.  Her  movements 
were  restless,  and  she  had  large,  sorrowful  eyes.  She 
began  to  ask  Klaus  questions  about  the  treasures  of  India, 
and  was  sorry  when  Klaus  laughingly  said  that  he  hadn't 
seen  man}'  of  them — hardly  more  than  a  dumpy  old 
Chinaman  had  carried  in  his  yellow  hands.  Martje,  the 
youngest  of  the  family,  passed  to  and  fro,  serving.  In  a 
voice  that  seemed  to  Klaus  too  tender  and  new  ever  to 
have  been  used  before,  she  asked  every  one  if  he  didn't 
want  some  more  coffee  or  cake. 

Only  two  or  three  times  in  his  life  had  Klaus  Baas  sat 
at  a  meal  with  a  respectable,  well-to-do  family.  The  last 
time  had  been  four  years  ago,  when  he  had  been  a  dubious 
guest  in  the  Mittelweg  in  Hamburg,  among  the  dark  old 
oil  paintings.  Now  he  was  sitting  in  the  home  of  the 
loveliest  girl  in  the  world,  right  at  her  table,  with  her 
simple  friendly  family.  And  now  her  dress  touched  his 
arm  —  think  of  it!  How  unspeakably  delicate  and  un- 
affected she  was  in  every  movement  !  How  timidly  she 
looked  at  him  while  Heini  Peters  was  telling  about  the  tin 
mine  !  If  he  only  dared  to  jump  up  and  seize  both  her 
hands  !  It  wasn't  possible,  was  it,  that  she  should  be  en- 
gaged !  Oh,  God,  to  think  that  another  man  had  kissed 
that  dear  head  !  That  another  man  would  take  unto 
himself  that  pure,  womanly  life,  take  it  and  shield  it  from 
all  perils  !  He  went  on  telling  the  older  daughter  this 
thing  and  that  which  he  had  heard  about  the  treasures  of 
India.  He  asked  interested  questions  about  the  robbery 
and  murder  which  the  mother  had  been  reading  about. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  255 

He  promised  the  father  that  he  would  consider  joining 
a  skat  club  in  Hamburg.  But  all  this  talk  was  superficial. 
He  had  heart,  eyes,  ears,  only  for  the  beautiful  delicate 
child. 

Then  when  Heini  Peters  tactlessly  got  up. to  go,  declar- 
ing that  they  had  been  sitting  at  the  table  two  hours, 
Klaus  had  to  get  up  too.  When  he  gave  his  hand  to 
]\[artje,  he  noticed  with  joyful  emotion  that  although  he 
held  it  a  good  while,  she  did  not  draw  it  away.  She  went 
to  the  door  with  him  and  stood  leaning  against  the  post. 
How  slender  and  finely  made  she  was  !  And  since  she 
talked  with  them  a  while  longer  as  they  stood  on  the 
street,  he  could  give  her  his  hand  again,  look  at  her  again, 
and  happily  meet  her  eyes.     Then  he  had  to  go. 

He  stormed  Heini  Peters  with  questions,  and  discovered 
only  good  about  her.  He  didn't  take  into  consideration 
that  Heini  was  not  a  good  judge,  and  he  didn't  listen  very 
well,  anyway.  He  had  seen  her  and  her  family.  Could 
there  be  anything  more  cordial  and  sincere  than  that 
family  ?  "  They're  thoroughly  worthy  people,"  said 
Heini  Peters,  with  his  usual  conviction,  "  well  established, 
generally  respected,  and  well-to-do.  That  oldest  son, 
who  is  in  the  wood  business  at  Kiel,  is  rather  stiff  and 
solemn.  I  don't  care  for  him  much.  The  other  two  are 
nice  fellows.  They  have  a  musical  instrument  factory  in 
Berlin.  The  oldest  daughter  had  an  unfortunate  marriage, 
and  she's  a  little  fantastic.-  She  gets  that  from  her 
mother." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  in  a  fever  of  excitement, 
for  which  the  Indian  sun  was  partly  responsible,  "  how  is 
it  possible  that  a  dear  lovely  girl  like  that  has  remained 
unengaged  so  long  ?  " 

Heini  Peters  made  a  sweeping  gesture  with  both  arms. 
"  Because,"  he  said,  in  sustained  despair,  "  because  the 
world  is  crazy.  But  then,  too,  she's  just  twenty-three, 
and  is  somewhat  shy  —  you  must  have  seen  that.  She 
ought  to  have  more  assurance.  I'd  marry  her  myself  in 
a  minute,  but  my  friend  Busch  says  that  I'm  not  yet  ripe 
for  marriage,  that  my  heart's  still  too  unstable." 


256  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

"  Oh,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  irritably,  "  get  out  with  your 
friend  Busch!  " 

Every  day  now  he  went  to  the  house  next  to  the  wood- 
yard,  either  alone  or  with  Heini  Peters.  He  went  in  the 
mornings  for  a  cup  of  tea,  for  a  cup  of  coffee  about  three 
or  four,  or  for  tea  again  at  six.  They  always  sat  chatting 
for  a  long  time,  and  they  always  seemed  to  have  time  for 
it.  He  enjoyed  going  over  the  woody ard  with  the  father 
and  talking  about  Pomeranian  beams,  Swedish  pine,  and 
Prussian  laths.  And  he  liked  especially  to  look  over  a 
local  business  in  this  way  and  to  show  how  easily  a  good 
merchant  can  understand  a  business  other  than  his  own. 
How  thoroughly  the  man  knew  everything  about  the 
little  town,  its  government,  its  associations,  and  its  houses. 
And  his  opinions  were  all  to  the  point.  Klaus  also 
enjoyed  talking  to  the  mother,  who  sat  hour  after  hour  at 
the  window  busy  with  her  lace-maker's  pillow,  now  and 
then  glancing  at  the  novel  lying  open  beside  it.  She  told 
charmingly  about  what  she  was  reading  —  the  princesses, 
the  peasant  boys,  and  the  Cinderellas  that  married  princes. 
And  how  prettily  she  talked  about  her  children.  Oh, 
thought  Klaus,  they  were  thoroughly  good  sociable 
people — a  fine  product  of  centuries  of  culture.  Their 
grandfather  had  been  a  councillor  of  state  or  something  of 
that  sort.  What  had  Klaus  Baas's  grandfather  been  ?  A 
day  laborer  —  a  thatcher.  One  of  the  sons  had  promised 
Martje  a  trip  to  Italy  ;  and  the  other  had  prematurely 
invited  her  to  his  wedding.  The  daughter  of  a 
distinguished  officer  was  well  disposed  toward  him. 
Wasn't  it  funny  to  hear  the  father  say,  with  his  pleasant 
dubious  little  laugh,  "  Well,  well,  mother,  if  it  turns  out 
that  way  — "  That  oldest  daughter,  the  widow,  was 
tremendously  interesting  too  ;  she  was  thawing  out  more 
and  more.  With  sparkling  eyes,  she  talked  somewhat 
darkly  about  people  who  wrongfully  possessed  great  riches. 
But  there  were  people  who  knew  about  the  wrong  done 
her,  and  they  would  wrest  away  from  them  the  casket  with 
the  seven  keys.  The  father  meantime  laughed  his  in- 
imitable little  laugh,  and  said,    "  There  you   are   back  to 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  257 

that  casket  again.  You're  always  on  the  same  theme." 
But  what  of  Martje  as  she  sat  opposite  her  mother,  with 
the  bobbins  flying  between  her  fair  fingers  ?  How  lightly 
and  beautifully  she  moved  through  the  pleasant  room! 
Certainly  she  was  the  sweetest  girl  he  had  ever  seen.  And 
really,  all  in  all,  the  man  that  had  a  right  to  sit  in  this 
circle,  to  belong  to  this  family,  after  a  youth  of  restraint, 
after  four  years  of  a  strange  foreign  land,  and  after  a  not 
too  warm  home-coming  —  could  count  himself  lucky. 

In  the  evenings  he  sat  for  a  long  time  by  the  lamp  in 
the  little  room  that  Heini  Peters  had  given  up  to  him. 
Unable  to  sleep,  he  read  for  a  long  time  in  the  books  of 
poetry  the  pretty  love  poems  that  Heini  had  illustrated 
with  wonderful  complicated  designs  in  blue.  He  read  the 
old  and  the  new  tales  —  from  Chloe  and  Daphne  and 
things  of  that  sort  to  Fredericka  and  Erica.  He  scanned 
the  pictures  of  all  sorts  with  which  Heini  Peters  had 
adorned  his  room.  There  were  dainty  women  in  draperies 
of  every  description  ;  there  were  cemeteries  ;  there  was  a 
huge  death's  head,  which,  when  seen  at  closer  range,  proved 
to  be  two  beautiful  girls,  whose  pretty  dark  heads  formed 
the  empty  eye  sockets.  Heini  always  had  a  leaning 
toward  the  symbolic. 

Toward  evening  on  the  fourth  day,  he  went  over  to 
the  Ruhlands'.  The  air  was  still  and  sultry,  and  seemed 
to  threaten  storm.  Grown  more  at  home,  Klaus  had 
passed  through  the  chestnut  lane  and  was  strolling  along 
the  garden  across  from  the  woodyard  when  he  came  upon 
Martje  sitting  by  herself  in  the  arbor.  She  tried  to 
hurry  away  shyly  without  a  word,  but  he  begged  her  to 
stay,  sat  down  on  the  bench  at  some  distance  from  her,  and 
began  to  talk.  With  fast  beating  heart,  he  asked  her 
question  after  question  —  about  anything  at  all  he  happened 
to  think  of  —  about  illnesses  she  had  had,  or  dangers  she 
had  escaped,  about  her  friends,  and  any  little  trips  she 
had  taken.  Gradually  she  became  a  little  more  confi- 
dential. She  sat  leaning  against  the  little  round  table, 
with  her  hand  resting,  now  clenched,  now  outspread, 
upon  it. 


258  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

He  leaned  forward ;  and  soon  he  was  chatting  about 
their  hands ;  didn't  the  red  stone  go  prettily  with  that 
shade  of  brown.  Then  firmly,  though  his  heart  was  beat- 
ing fast,  he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  delicate  little  one,  which, 
like  a  surprised,  terrified  butterfly,  suddenly  ceased  flutter- 
ing and  grew  quite  still.  In  a  great  burst  of  feeling,  he 
shook  it  and  cried,  "  I  love  you  more  than  anything  else 
in  the  world.     Tell  me  —  do  you  care  for  me  a  little?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  timidly,  and  her  breath  came  fast. 
"  But  I  can't  go  to  Hamburg,"  she  cried.  "  I  want  to 
stay  with  my  mother." 

He  laughed,  quite  beside  himself  with  love  and  admira- 
tion. "  Oh,  my  darling,  my  precious  !  That  can  be  ar- 
ranged. If  you  just  love  me  !  You  must  tell  me  that 
now,"  and  he  bent  down  to  look  in  her  eyes. 

Quite  overcome,  she  turned  and  looked  up  at  him,  tim- 
orously, as  if  he  were  much  more  formidable  now  than  he 
had  been  before.  "  But  I  will  not  leave  my  mother,"  she 
repeated. 

This  sweet  timidity  set  him  beside  himself.  He  drew 
her  to  him  tempestuously.  She  yielded  for  just  a  second, 
then  drew  herself  away  with  a  quick,  "  I  must  go,"  and 
flew.  When  he  came  out  of  the  arbor  she  was  not  to  be 
seen. 

He  stood  for  a  while  in  a  perfect  transport.  Then  in 
the  mood  of  a  man  who  must  and  will  secure  at  once  the 
one  splendid  thing  that  life  can  hold,  he  turned  short 
around  to  look  for  Martje's  father  in  the  woodyard.  He 
told  him  at  once  what  he  wanted  of  him.  And  then,  stand- 
ing there  among  the  Pomeranian  planks,  he  told  him  about 
his  father  and  his  mother,  his  early  years,  his  education, 
and  his  prospects. 

The  father  listened  with  a  good-humored  smile.  "  We 
saw  it  coming,"  he  said.  "  We  noticed  that  you  liked  our 
little  girl,  and  that  she  liked  you.  And  we've  already 
talked  about  it.     Come  in  with  me." 

They  went  into  the  comfortable  room  with  all  its  knick- 
knacks  on  the  tables,  pictures,  what-nots,  lace-pillows,  and 
flower  stands,  and  the  father  told  them  what  had  happened. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  259 

The  mother  dropped  her  hands  and  wept.  It  would  be 
very  hard  to  give  up  her  child,  although  she  had  perfect 
confidence  in  him  as  an  old  friend  of  Heini  Peters.  Still, 
it  was  hard  for  a  mother.  The  older  sister  wept,  too,  and 
said  that  it  would  be  hard  to  give  the  child  up.  Then  she 
wandered  off  to  her  familiar  theme,  the  casket.  When 
she  got  that  settled  she  would  buy  the  child  a  piece  of 
jewelry  as  an  additional  wedding  gift ;  and  it  would  be 
regal.  The  father  walked  cheerfully  up  and  down  the 
room  without  bumping  into  a  single  stand  or  table.  Now 
and  then  he  put  in  a  word  good-humoredly.  "  Come,  stop 
crying,  mother ;  it  was  to  be,  you  see.  And  it's  very  nice  as  it 
is,  very  nice.  Can't  you  stop  harping  on  your  casket,  Flora  ? 
Better  go  and  hunt  up  your  little  sister  instead."  Then 
Klaus  ran  out  to  hunt  for  her.  He  found  her  in  the  kitchen 
helping  to  get  supper,  as  usual.  She  let  him  take  her  into 
the  room,  in  great  confusion.  And  then  she  began  to  go 
to  and  fro  at  once  as  if  what  they  were  talking  about 
did  not  concern  her  in  the  least. 

They  told  Klaus  Baas  that  they  all  wanted  him  to  help 
in  the  wood  business.  He  and  Martje  were  to  move  into 
the  little  house  with  the  pretty  little  garden  at  the  other 
end  of  the  woodyard.  The  two  younger  sons  had  no 
liking  for  the  business  ;  and  the  eldest  had  not  got  along 
very  well  with  the  father.  He  had  a  good  position  in 
Kiel,  and  he  preferred  to  remain  there.  So  it  was  a  fine 
thing  that  Klaus  Baas  was  a  business  man.  And  since, 
as  they  had  noticed,  he  knew  so  well  how  to  deal  with 
people,  things  could  hardly  be  better. 

Klaus  listened  to  their  proposition  with  shining  eyes. 
He  told  them  how  grateful  he  was  to  them  all  for  taking 
liira  right  into  their  midst  as  they  had.  He  felt  indescrib- 
al^ly  at  home  there.  He  had  had  some  hard  times,  espe- 
cially the  lonely  years  in  India.  And  so  he  had  been  drawn 
by  the  friendliness  he  had  received  from  them  all,  just  as 
he  had  been  by  Martje's  character  and  her  love.  The 
mother  listened  to  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  the 
father  clapped  him  on  the  slioulder. 

When  he  was  leaving  a  few  hours  later,  at  dark,  she 


260  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

went  hand  in  hand  with  him  to  the  door.  When  they  got 
there  he  put  his  arm  around  her  cautiously  and  began  to 
talk  in  a  low  voice  about  how  quickly  his  fortunes  had 
turned,  about  how  in  six  weeks  time  she  would  be  his 
wife,  how  he  would  be  able  to  see  her  at  the  window  from 
the  office,  and  how  in  the  evenings  they  would  walk  to- 
gether in  the  chestnut  lane.  She  listened  without  a  word, 
standing  quietly  within  his  arm,  and  seeming,  as  he  talked, 
to  be  listening  to  the  gently  falling  rain.  When  he  asked 
her  if  she  wasn't  happy  now  she  nodded  slowly  ;  and  when 
he  pressed  her,  he  found  that  she  was  especially  glad  be- 
cause she  was  going  to  stay  so  near  her  father  and  mother. 
The  thought  of  this  seemed  to  give  her  confidence,  for  she 
let  him  draw  her  to  his  breast  and  kiss  her.  He  wondered 
at  her  calmness  —  almost  indifference,  for  he  had  already 
learned  that  a  girl  breathes  more  deeply  in  her  lover's 
arms ;  so  he  pressed  her  to  him  more  passionately  and 
kissed  her  harder.  Then  she  simply  drew  away,  with  a 
calm,  friendly  air.  He  let  her  go,  thinking,  "  Ah,  well, 
that  will  be  different  some  day  —  as  soon  as  you  are  living 
over  there  with  me,  dear !  "  He  pressed  her  hands ;  she 
could  not  see  his  happy,  passionate  eyes. 

As  he  walked  alone  down  the  chestnut  lane,  the  tide  of 
wonderful  emotion  and  overwhelming  joy  ebbed  surpris- 
ingly soon,  leaving  him  calmer  aud  soberer  than  he  had 
been  for  these  four  days.  It  struck  him  suddenly  that  he 
had  taken  a  monstrously  important  step  —  indeed,  the 
most  important  step  of  his  life  —  without  due  considera- 
tion. He  stood  still ;  a  mood  of  calm  reflection  began 
gradually  to  take  possession  of  him.  He  looked  at  what 
had  happened  in  connection  with  his  life  up  to  this  point, 
representing  it  as  it  would  look  to  his  mother,  to  the  calm 
gaze  of  his  dead  friend  in  the  Pendja  valle}^  and  finally 
as  it  appeared  to  himself.  Well,  so  that  was  his  fate  ! 
He  felt  distinctly,  with  an  unpleasant  sense  of  shame,  that 
he  had  not  brought  it  about  himself,  but  that  he  had  slid 
along  like  a  boat  driven  by  the  current,  rushing  in  any 
direction. 

He  felt  very  quiet,  as  he  listened  to  the  meditation  of 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  2G1 

his  own  heart.  Was  it,  after  all,  a  good  and  a  right  thing 
to  do  ?  He  listened  to  the  raindrops  falling  one  after  an- 
other upon  the  leaves  of  the  lindens,  and  then  to  the  ground 
—  falling  —  falling  monotonously.  That  was  the  way  his 
life  would  go  now  —  slowly,  equably,  pleasantly.  He 
used  to  think  that  it  would  be  different  —  bold,  strenuous, 
aiming  high.  So  much  for  the  rainbow  dreams  of  youth  — 
mere  visions.  Well,  if  Karl  Eschen  were  living,  or  if  Herr 
Trimborn  had  been  in  Hamburg  —  it  might  have  been  dif- 
ferent. But  as  he  was — without  money  and  without 
connections  !  There  was  no  great  future  here,  cer- 
tainly, in  a  wood  business  in  a  rather  small  town.  But 
the  business  was  a  good  sound  one.  With  industry  and 
wise  management,  it  would  be  possible  to  enlarge  it.  He 
would  get  up  early  and  dig  and  grind.  And  above  every- 
thing else  —  Martje  Ruhland  !  Martje  Ruhland  !  What 
a  dear  name  —  and  not  half  so  dear  as  she  herself.  The 
sweetest  of  all  women,  and  his  own,  his  very  own.  He 
had  found  the  woman  that  fulfilled  his  long-cherished, 
passionate  desire  for  pure  and  lovely  womanhood.  And 
she  fulfilled  it  absolutel3^ 

He  went  on  a  few  steps  and  then  stopped  again.  "  Well, 
then,"  he  said  in  amazement,  "  why  am  I  not  happy, 
when  I  have  been  so  blissful  these  last  few  days  ?  Was 
all  my  bliss,  all  my  desire,  simply  in  winning  her  ?  "  The 
raindrops  fell  heavily,  almost  meditatively.  "  Slowly, 
slowly,"  they  seemed  to  say.  ■  "  Take  time  —  slowly  but 
surely."  Raising  his  head,  he  looked  up  the  narrow  street. 
Again  he  was  beset  by  the  tormenting  feeling  that  his 
life  would  now  be  lost  within  narrow  limits,  without  fame 
or  glory.  So,  in  a  strange  mood  of  mingled  happiness 
and  depression,  he  went  on  toward  the  square. 

Six  weeks  later  he  asked  his  mother  whether  she  would 
come  to  the  wedding  with  him.  She  had  no  time  and  no 
desire  to  celebrate  weddings,  she  answered  coldly.  She 
would  come  to  see  them  some  time  later,  provided  things 
went  well  with  them.  She  worked  as  carefully  as  she  could  to 
get  him  ready,  and  made  a  dress  for  Hanna  to  wear  to  the 


262  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

wedding.  But  she  did  it  all  with  the  greatest  indifference, 
as  if  it  were  a  matter  of  no  importance,  and  as  if  it  was 
really  asking  too  much  that  she  should  excite  herself  about 
such  foolishness  as  her  son's  marrying  and  going  away. 

But  when  he  held  out  his  hand  to  say  good-by  to  her  in 
the  dark  kitchen  on  the  morning  of  the  wedding-day  — 
Hanna  was  already  waiting  outside  on  the  steps  —  she  sud- 
denly threw  her  arm  around  his  neck  and  wept  as  if  her 
heart  would  break. 

Klaus  was  terrified.  "Mother,  what's  the  matter?"  he 
asked. 

"  Do  you  think  it's  easy  for  me  to  have  you  go  away?  " 
she  said,  between  her  sobs.  "I  am  losing  you  now. 
You're  going  to  have  a  wife  and  children.  And  there  was 
only  one  man  in  the  house." 

Klaus  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  she  forced  him  out. 
"  Go,  go,"  she  said. 

He  walked  silently  along  by  his  sister's  side,  simply  as- 
tounded at  what  had  happened.  During  the  last  few 
years  his  relationship  to  his  mother  had  been  that  of  hav- 
ing the  same  task  —  to  bring  up  the  fatherless  children. 
And  he  had  not  thought  of  or  felt  anything  beyond  that. 
But  it  was  clear  to  him  now  that  through  all  these  years 
his  mother  had  been  loving  him  as  her  son,  and  as  a  man 
in  the  house  as  well ;  and  perhaps  as  the  image  of  her  dear 
dead  husband,  too.  Now  that  he  was  going,  she  was  los- 
ing her  dead  altogether !  And  they  had  no  picture  of  his 
father  !  "  There's  something  strange,"  he  thought,  "about 
the  heart  of  a  wife  and  a  mother  like  that.  It  reaches  down 
deep."  And  he  kept  shaking  his  head  at  his  discovery. 
How  anxious  she  must  have  been  about  him  all  through 
the  past !  He  had  always  been  so  restless,  so  high-spirited, 
so  important  about  nothing,  so  fanciful.  Dear,  severe, 
strange  mother  that  she  was !  As  he  walked  quietly 
along  by  his  sister's  side,  he  saw  her  in  a  new  light,  which 
surrounded  the  gray  head  like  a  finer,  more  clearly  defined 
halo.  Even  now  she  was  probably  still  standing  by  the 
hearth,  crying  and  thinking  about  him.  Dear,  strange 
mother !     He  loved  his  mother  now  for  the  first  time,  and 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  263 

for  the  first  time  he  had  a  sense  of  prevailing  over  her. 
Quite  sure  of  himself,  he  said  to  Hanna,  "  Be  kind  to 
mother,  and  be  sure  to  tell  the  children  expressly  to  be 
good  to  her.  Don't  forget  —  I  tell  you,  you  can  look  a 
long  while  before  you  find  a  mother  like  that.  I  know 
from  experience." 

Late  that  evening  Klaus  Baas  was  standing  at  the  back 
door  with  his  little  wife,  waiting  for  a  chance  to  go  home 
to  the  little  house  at  the  other  end  of  the  woodyard  unob- 
served by  the  guests  that  still  remained.  He  was  tenderly 
stroking  her  hair  and  cheeks,  as  she  stood  there  calm  and 
silent.  Suddenly,  with  a  strange  little  gesture  of  entreaty, 
she  put  her  hands  on  his  breast.  "  Let  me  stay  just  this  one 
night  with  mother,"  she  begged.     "Please,  please  !  " 

He  was  terribly  disappointed,  and  he  felt  blank.  Then 
his  magnanimous  spirit  swiftly  interceded  for  her.  "  Isn't 
it  really  lovely  —  such  filial  love,  and  such  shyness."  He 
would  have  to  help  her,  always  cautiously,  to  develop  into  a 
freer,  more  complete  person.  So  he  caressed  her,  asked  for 
a  kiss  and  received  it,  and  then  went  alone  across  the  wood- 
yard.  He  stood  for  a  while  at  the  door,  looking  over  at 
the  light  that  appeared  in  her  virginal  little  room.  With 
a  great  and  pure  love  he  thought  of  his  tender  young  wife; 
and  his  heart  was  full  of  the  desire  to  be  good  to  her,  to 
help  her,  and  to  work  for  her. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

He  treated  her  very  considerately  and  very  kindly. 
But  he  was  a  man,  and  he  had  a  firm  grasp  on  life,  both 
inside  and  outside  the  little  red  house.  And  he  meant  to 
be  master  absolutely  —  just  as  he  had  been  as  a  boy  with 
his  regiment. 

Gradually,  to  be  sure,  she  did  his  will,  but  without  joy, 
and  quite  ungraciously.  And  she  confessed  to  him  that 
she  had  prayed  God  every  day  since  they  had  been  married 
that  she  might  never  have  a  child.  In  her  small,  shy  heart 
everything  of  this  sort  had  come  to  mean  something  sinful 
and  unclean,  as  a  result  of  the  shameful,  unnatural  way 
she  had  heard  the  whole  subject  treated  at  school  and  in 
church  ;  and  as  a  result,  too,  of  the  way  respectable  society 
treats  it  —  as  if  it  involved  something  ugly.  For  Klaus, 
too,  the  whole  thing  had  been  smudged  in  school  and  in 
church.  But  he  had  a  healthy  nature  and,  like  all  men 
of  will  and  spirit,  strongly  developed  senses.  And  he  had 
long  ago  shaken  off  all  the  silly  ideas  he  had  picked  up, 
and  had  thus  been  able  to  enjoy  his  delicate  fresh  little 
wife  frankly  and  naturally.  But  his  timid  little  partner 
regarded  the  whole  thing  as  a  cross. 

He  had  a  very  natural  feeling  that  a  young  wife  ought  to 
be  glad  to  have  a  child  by  the  man  she  loves  ;  and  he  hoped 
that  everything  would  go  better  when  this  should  come 
about.  He  hoped,  too,  that  all  her  narrowness  and  worry 
would  then  be  over,  and  that  in  their  place  would  come 
the  womanly  breadth  and  serenity  he  so  much  admired. 
After  a  few  months,  in  spite  of  her  pitiful  prayers,  she  be- 
came pregnant.  She  wept  constantly,  worried  herself  into 
despair,  talked  all  the  time  about  dying,  and  took  pleasure 
in  nothing.     Klaus,  like  a  joyous  courageous  man  that  feels 

264 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  265 

a  need  of  having  something  to  do  or  undertake,  saw  that 
he  could  be  of  use  here,  and  gladly  exerted  himself  to 
clieer  her  up  on  all  occasions.  With  his  joy  in  life  and 
work,  with  his  beaming,  laughing  eyes,  he  ought  to  have 
been  a  real  inspiration.  How  he  stroked  and  caressed  her! 
But  it  really  seemed  as  if  his  courage  and  ardor  increased 
her  spiritlessness. 

The  senses,  restrained  for  years,  but  now  in  a  measure 
satisfied,  allowed  his  young  manhood,  as  if  released,  to 
expand  freely  in  a  new  feeling  of  responsibility  and  enter- 
prise, in  an  ambition  to  look  out  for  wife  and  child,  to 
undertake  tasks  and  duties,  and  to  win  money  and  honor. 
He  liked  being  at  the  harbor  when  the  little  Swedish 
schooner  with  its  cargo  of  boards  was  unloaded.  And  he 
liked  being  at  the  yards  when  the  heavy  wagons,  loaded 
with  long  Pomeranian  beams  which  had  been  floated  down 
the  Elbe,  came  up  from  the  river.  He  enjoyed  going 
around  the  piles  and  sheds  with  the  simple  contractors  of 
the  town  and  neighborhood.  And  he  liked  reckoning  and 
recording  the  receipts  and  the  expenditures  in  the  office. 
As  he  sat  there  writing  he  cast  long  looks  over  toward  the 
little  house  in  the  garden  where  his  little  wife  was,  his 
particular  love  and  care.  His  father-in-law  let  him  take 
full  charge,  confessing  frankly  that  he  was  very  glad  to 
have  an  energetic,  able  partner ;  and  in  the  afternoons  he 
stayed  away  from  the  yards  altogether,  and  busied  himself 
in  the  interests  of  the  six  or  seven  clubs  in  which  he  was 
prominent. 

Nevertheless,  Klaus  Baas  soon  discovered  that  his  activi- 
ties were  limited.  He  was  permitted  to  be  a  co-worker 
with  the  father-in-law,  but  not  a  co-manager.  His  father 
didn't  like  it  when  Klaus  made  even  a  very  conservative 
change  in  the  management,  which  in  some  respects  was 
really  out  of  date.  Nor  did  he  like  it  when  Klaus  pointed 
out  that  competition  in  the  two  nearest  towns  was  making 
dangerous  progress,  nor  when  he  proposed  negotiating 
with  larger  firms,  carrying  a  greater  assortment,  and 
establishing  a  branch  business  in  a  large  village.  Any- 
thing new  was  not  well  received  by  the  father  —  it  dis- 


266  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

turbed  his  comfort.  He  did  not  resent  propositions  ;  he 
simply  set  them  aside.  "  Let  it  be  as  it  is,"  he  said.  "  All 
this  bothers  me,  my  boy." 

Above  all,  however,  Klaus  couldn't  find  out  anything 
at  all  about  the  firm's  capital  and  profits.  One  day  he 
found  on  his  desk  a  letter  which  had  probably  got  there 
by  mistake.  In  it  the  two  sons  in  Berlin  wrote  that  in 
their  opinion  certain  yearly  allowances  which  had  been 
sent  to  them  were  not  so  large  as  they  should  be  ;  in  order 
to  establish  their  business  on  a  firm  basis  they  would  need 
a  larger  yearly  allowance.  At  the  time  of  his  wedding 
Klaus  had  become  very  superficially  acquainted  with  his 
brothers-in-law.  At  that  time  he  had  not  been  willingf  to 
admit  to  himself  that  he  didn't  like  the  two  pale,  slouching 
fellows,  with  their  boastful  airs  ;  but  now  that  he  read 
the  letter,  he  saw  them  again,  and  frankly  admitted  to 
himself  that  he  had  nothing  in  common  with  them  and 
never  would  have.  He  told  their  father  that  these  yearly 
allowances  were  pernicious  in  fostering  in  the  sons  idleness 
and  lack  of  grip,  "  Ah,  Klaus,"  the  father  said,  lajang 
his  hand  on  his  arm  again,  "  don't  say  anything  like  that ; 
you  worry  me,  indeed  you  do.  I  can  manage  it,  and  I 
can  and  must  help  my  children.  Of  course  I  know  that 
their  mother's  head  is  full  of  notions,  and  that  may  have 
spoiled  the  boys  from  childhood  up.  But  what  can  I  do 
—  she's  their  mother.  I  certainly  can't  say, '  Stop  deceiv- 
ing each  other.  Don't  exaggerate  so'  —  now  can  I  ?  I'm 
getting  along  in  years  now,  and  I  don't  want  to  have  any 
differences  with  my  wife  and  children.  Let  things  be  as 
they  are.  When  we  two  old  folks  are  gone,  you  can  fix 
it  any  way  you  like." 

On  some  afternoons,  when  Klaus  and  his  little  wife  had 
coffee  together  in  their  living-room,  he  was  very  happy. 
Beside  her  at  the  window  were  the  flowers  which  she  took 
such  pleasure  in  caring  for,  and  her  pet  canary  twittered 
and  chirped  beside  her.  She  had  such  a  pretty,  dainty 
little  way  of  serving  ;  and  sometimes,  when  she  was  in  a 
good  humor,  she  chatted  along  in  the  most  charming  way 
in  her  thin  little  voice  about  trifling  little  things  at  home 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  267 

or  among  the  people  they  knew.  And  it  was  fine  when 
they  sometimes  sat  together  in  the  evening,  he  with  his 
big  Hamburg  paper,  she  with  her  lace-pillow.  It  was 
even  endurable  when  they  went  over  to  her  parents' 
house  for  supper,  and  sat  there  talking  —  the  mother 
about  her  boys,  the  sister  about  her  casket,  and  the  father 
about  his  cIuIds.  Then  his  little  wife  forgot  her  condition, 
and  sat  contentedly  at  her  lace-making.  He  did  not  even 
count  as  entirely  lost  the  Thursday  evenings  he  spent  at 
the  bowling  club  with  his  father-in-law,  although  it  was 
all  one  to  him  whether  he  or  some  one  else  was  playing. 
Still,  considering  his  twenty -seven  years,  it  was  something 
quite  considerable  to  be  immediately  accepted  on  equal 
terms  and  looked  up  to  by  these  older,  distinguished  people 
of  the  town. 

As  day  after  day  passed,  however,  each  one  revealing 
only  what  was  right  before  his  eyes,  the  rosy  mist  with 
which  his  youth  and  his  optimistic  nature  had  surrounded 
all  these  new  people  and  things  gradually  dissolved.  He 
became  more  sober  and  a  little  bored,  and  went  off  by 
himself  once  in  a  while.  And  when  he  was  once  alone 
with  his  own  soul,  his  judgments  gradually  became  calmer, 
and  what  he  saw  did  not  satisfy  him.  He  realized  now 
that  in  those  four  summer  days  just  after  he  had  come 
home  from  the  far  East  and  was  not  yet  adjusted  to  home, 
he  had  made  a  bright  and  beautiful  picture  of  everything 
that  had  caught  his  eye  —  of  this  town,  this  family,  and 
this  business.  He  struggled  with  himself,  for  he  wanted 
the  picture  to  keep  its  rainbow  colors  and  it  did  keep  some 
of  them;  but  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do,  it  was  fading  fast. 

The  only  saving  thing  about  it,  he  thought,  was  that 
his  little  wife  did  not  fade  with  the  rest.  There  was  cer- 
tainly no  possibility  of  that.  That  would  be  horrible. 
She  was  like  her  mother  and  sister  in  some  ways  now,  it 
was  true  —  in  a  sort  of  moping-at-home  instinct  common 
to  her  family,  a  sort  of  fear  of  life  which  he  would  never 
have  suspected  in  the  charming  girl  lie  had  drawn  down 
from  the  mound  in  the  cemetery.  It  didn't  seem  right  to 
him,  either,  that  she  had  no  interest  in  books  ;  it  looked 


268  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

as  if  nothing  that  had  ever  happened  or  been  thought  in 
any  other  time  or  place  had  any  significance  for  her.  And 
it  was  a  pity  she  didn't  like  to  hear  him  talk  in  his  bold, 
enterprising  way  about  his  plans  for  extending  the  busi- 
ness, or  about  the  outlook  in  some  new  undertaking,  or 
about  settling  in  Hamburg  some  day.  Certainly  talk  of 
that  sort  startled  her  quite  too  much.  He  had  thought 
that  the  woman  that  would  be  his  wife  would  have  to  be 
a  real  comrade  and  partner.  But  mercy,  he  ought  to  con- 
sider the  condition  she  was  in  !  When  her  time  was  over, 
and  she  had  a  healthy  baby  in  her  arms,  she  would  stand 
more  firmly  on  her  feet  and  be  a  complete,  healthy,  gay 
woman. 

Her  time  came.  With  great  suffering,  she  brought  into 
the  world  a  healthy  little  girl.  Her  recovery  was  long 
and  slow. 

But  she  became  neither  happier  nor  more  assured.  She 
bewailed  her  poor  health,  was  always  worried  about  her 
baby,  and  seemed  tolerably  happy  and  contented  only' 
when  she  had  her  mother  or  sister  with  her,  —  preferably 
both.  In  spring,  when  the  baby  was  old  enough  to  be 
carried  over  the  woodyard,  she  passed  half  of  the  day  with 
her  mother  and  sister,  and  Klaus  Baas  had  to  go  there  to 
look  for  her.  He  found  her  there  talking  quite  cheerfully, 
drinking  coffee,  and  busy  with  the  lace-making.  The 
mother  would  be  talking  about  the  two  sons  —  how  one 
of  them,  even  when  he  was  an  apprentice,  had  found  out 
a  cheating  bookkeeper,  and  thus  saved  his  chief  from  a 
bankruptcy  scandal.  And  how  her  other  boy  had  been  on 
tlie  point  of  marrying  a  beautiful  and  immensely  wealthy 
girl,  and  had  been  prevented  by  the  intrigues  of  a  false 
friend.  Then  with  gleaming  eyes  and  more  and  more 
emphatic  words,  the  older  sister  revealed  to  them  the 
mysteries  of  the  casket.  A  rich  man  with  whom  she  had 
got  acquainted  during  her  married  life  had  willed  it  to 
her  with  half  a  million  in  it ;  but  this  man's  nephew  re- 
fused to  tell  her  where  the  casket  and  the  key  were. 
Klaus's  pale  thin  little  wife  talked  about  her  friends,  spin- 
ning  out   their   life   histories   in   her  high-pitched   little 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  269 

voice,  and  brooding  over  every  detail.  Sometimes  they 
had  a  visitor — an  aunt  or  distant  rehitive,  or  a  neighbor  who 
carried  the  town  gossip  from  house  to  house.  When  Khius 
Baas  came  in,  his  little  wife  looked  up  at  him  appealingly, 
as  if  to  say,  "  You  aren't  going  to  disturb  us,  are  you  ? 
We're  so  comfortable."  Noticing  that  they  all  became 
quieter  and  a  little  embarrassed  when  he  appeared,  he 
soon  left.  And  he  struggled  against  the  realization  that 
the  sweet  and  beautiful  image  of  his  wife  was  fading  too. 

He  saw  that  there  was  a  real  danger  in  the  way  the 
three  women  continually  moped  together.  So  he  lay  in 
wait,  and  one  afternoon,  when  he  caught  the  father  and 
mother  alone,  he  talked  to  them  about  it.  He  told  them 
that  once  lately,  when  he  happened  to  be  passing  by  their 
oldest  daughter's  window,  he  had  seen  her  looking  very 
strange  and  wild,  burrowing  in  her  bureau  drawer  in  a 
perfect  frenzy.  He  feared  the  worst,  he  said.  But  they 
refused  to  listen  to  him.  Putting  her  hands  over  her  ears, 
the  mother  declared  that  she  simply  couldn't  endure  such 
talk;  and  for  the  first  time  the  father  became  really  angry, 
regarding  the  suggestion  as  an  insult. 

Klaus  Baas  went  over  home  to  look  for  his  wife,  but  she 
was  not  to  be  found.  At  last  he  discovered  her  sitting  in 
the  arbor  in  which  he  had  won  her,  in  those  lovely  summer 
days,  two  years  before.  He  was  still  excited  from  the 
talk  with  her  father  and  mother  ;  and  he  was  keenly 
worried  about  his  future  and  hers.  He  felt  an  urgent  need 
of  separating  her  more  from  her  family;  and  so  for  the 
first  time  he  told  her  coldly  and  clearly  what  he  thought 
of  the  whole  situation.  He  told  her  that  he  had  no  opin- 
ion at  all  of  the  two  brothers  in  Berlin,  and  that  they  were 
eating  up  the  profits  of  her  father's  business,  to  what  ex- 
tent he  did  not  accurately  know.  Anyway,  the  result  was 
that  he  was  working  for  them  and  not  for  her  and  himself 
and  their  child.  He  considered  this  moping  in  the  living- 
room  every  day,  this  continual  talking  about  all  kinds  of 
wild  fancies,  extremely  imprudent,  for  the  older  sister 
especially,  but  for  her,  too.  There  wasn't  a  word  of  truth 
in  that  casket  tale.     His  spirit  was  aroused,  and  he  tried 


270  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

to  make  her  see  it  all  as  plainly  as  he  could.  xAnd  in  try- 
ing to  make  her  see  the  situation,  it  became  clearer  to  him 
as  he  talked.  He  shuddered  again  more  violently  than 
ever  at  what  he  saw.     Finally  he  stopped,  quite  overcome. 

During  his  emphatic  recital  she  had  begun  to  play  with 
the  baby  sitting  in  the  sand  in  front  of  her.  She  took  it 
up  on  her  lap,  cleaned  its  sandy  little  hands,  and  so  on. 
When  he  hnally  stopped,  she  said  in  her  dull,  spiritless 
little  way,  "  What  does  all  that  amount  to,  Klaus  ?  What 
have  I  to  do  with  it  ?  Suppose  what  you  say  about  my 
brothers  is  true  ?  Suppose  they  do  get  some  of  my  father's 
money  every  year  —  they're  his  children,  aren't  they  ? 
And  why  shouldn't  Flora  talk  about  the  casket  ?  You 
just  worry  me  and  upset  me,  Klaus.  You  do  it  continu- 
ally—  if  not  with  what  you  say,  then  with  the  way  you 
look.  I'm  absolutely  afraid  of  you.  Mercy,  Klaus,  things 
have  been  going  on  all  right  all  these  years.  Father's 
still  here  looking  out  for  things.  Well,  then,  why  should 
trouble  come  all  at  once  ?  Bad  luck  doesn't  drop  out  of  a 
clear  sky." 

He  gave  a  vexed  laugh  at  her  way  of  putting  it  all. 
*k'  Martje,"  he  said,  "  it  won't  do  for  you  to  keep  away  all 
your  life  from  realities  and  anxieties.  Just  for  my  sake, 
try  once  more  to  see  the  situation  as  it  is  —  as  a  grave  and 
dangerous  one." 

She  caressed  several  times  the  yellow  head  of  the  baby 
at  her  breast,  and  looked  down  on  the  ground  with  big, 
dreary  eyes.  At  last  she  said  dully,  "  You  oughtn't  to 
torment  me  with  things  like  this,  Klaus  —  you  really 
oughtn't.  It  doesn't  do  you  any  good  to  tell  them  to  me. 
It  just  makes  me  sad,  and  cross  at  you.  And  I've  been 
angry  with  you  so  often  already,  just  because  you're 
always  thinking  of  things  like  these.  Even  if  you  don't 
say  so,  your  -eyes  show  it.  You're  always  so  hard  and  so 
strenuous  —  and  so  very  different  from  us." 

Klaus  shook  his  head  hopelessly,  got  up  without  a  word, 
and  went  back  to  work,  his  face  pale  and  quiet. 

From  this  day  on  he  withdrew  more  and  more  from  the 
family  circle.     Many  an  evening  and  many  a  Sunday  he 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  271 

sat  alone  over  a  book  in  the  little  room,  with  its  stiff  new 
furniture  and  its  many  knickknacks  and  tidies,  of  which 
his  wife  was  so  fond.  Sometimes  she  sat  with  him  in  si- 
lence, but  much  oftener  she  was  over  at  her  parents'  house. 
In  the  three  years  that  succeeded  he  read  a  great  deal,  with 
a  sort  of  passionate  zeal  and  enthusiasm.  He  had  put 
away  the  illusions  of  youth  now ;  he  was  no  longer  inter- 
ested in  high  ideals  and  fanciful  conceptions  of  joy  and 
sorrow.  He  did  not  think  now  of  reading  Schiller  and 
other  great  poets ;  indeed,  he  scorned  all  books  of  that 
sort.  His  idealistic,  imaginative  soul,  tormented  and  de- 
ceived, confronted,  as  it  was  now,  by  hard  reality,  longed 
for  an  understanding  of  the  sober  truth. 

It  was  not  until  these  years  when  he  was  taking  no  part 
in  the  life  of  the  little  town,  and  when  he  was  almost  thirty, 
that  he  gained  a  broader  and  more  sufficient  knowledge 
of  the  world  and  its  phenomena.  He  sat  long  over  biog- 
raphies, books  of  travel,  natural  histories,  commercial 
treatises,  and  a  huge  history  of  the  world.  And  he  followed 
intently  the  course  of  events  in  the  large  Hamburg  news- 
papers. With  the  aid  of  a  big  lexicon,  he  tried  to  fill 
in  all  the  gaps  that  invariably  occur  in  the  course  of  such 
wide  reading.  Then  he  quietly  pondered  how  he  could 
still  adjust  his  life  and  raise  it  to  a  higher  plane. 

Late  in  the  autumn  he  was  offered  the  position  of 
manager  of  a  well-established,  but  somewhat  sluggish 
Farmers'  Bank.  By  the  impending  establishment  of  anew 
bank  in  a  larger  neighboring  town,  its  position  was  endan- 
gered, and  it  hoped  to  recover  its  old  standing  through  the 
energy  of  young  Klaus  Baas.  Klaus  knew,  however,  that 
the  new  bank  had  behind  it  the  people  who  were  most  im- 
portant financially  and  who  were  marked  by  the  most  en- 
terprising intelligence  ;  and  so,  to  his  father-in-law's  great 
amazement  and  vexation,  he  refused  the  offer  of  the  old 
bank  and  worked  for  and  obtained  the  managership  of  the 
new  one.  He  threw  himself  into  the  work  with  the  en- 
thusiasm of  a  man  expending  all  his  energy  and  interest 
on  a  still  struggling  enterprise.  Moreover,  it  was  work 
he  was  doing  on  his  own  account.     In  the  course  of  the 


272  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

winter  he  became  generally  known  as  a  good  worker  and 
a  keen  judge.  He  won  the  confidence  of  the  board  of 
directors  to  such  a  degree  that  in  the  spring  he  was  in- 
trusted with  extra  commissions.  Under  wise  direction,  the 
bank  really  grew,  until  it  needed  more  than  ever  the  services 
of  men  of  experience  and  business  capacity,  for  the  di- 
rectors themselves  were  chiefly  countrymen.  Since  Klaus 
had  made  good  in  his  lower  capacity,  and  since  his  energy 
and  discretion  pleased  them,  he  was  soon  made  a  member 
of  the  bank  council.  In  this  way  he  both  won  personal 
recognition  and  distinction,  and  also  realized  from  the 
work  a  tidy  little  sum,  which  he  left  in  operation  at  the 
bank.  He  slowly  withdrew  a  little'  from  the  wood  busi- 
ness, and  secretly  kept  before  him  the  idea  of  getting  an 
interest,  by  means  of  this  money,  in  some  sort  of  mercan- 
tile business  in  Hamburg.  In  this  way,  he  thought,  he 
could  remove  himself  and  his  little  wife  from  her  family. 
With  this  in  view,  he  went  oftener  to  Hamburg,  where 
both  his  mother  and  the  bank  business  often  called  him, 
went  through  the  Exchange,  looked  in  at  certain  offices 
where  he  knew  people,  and  in  general  kept  in  touch  with 
all  his  acquaintances.  He  was  on  the  lookout  for  an  op- 
portunity which  his  personality  and  his  little  capital  might 
help  him  to  embrace. 

His  father-in-law  remained  well  disposed.  "  Are  you  try- 
ing to  get  rich  in  ten  years  ?  "  he  asked  laughingly.  "  You 
don't  stay  with  us  any  more,  and  you  don't  come  to  the 
bowling  club.  You  just  dig  and  dig  at  that  work  of  yours. 
Do  you  call  that  living  ?  You  ought  to  come  over  for 
coffee  now  and  then.  The  women  like  to  have  a  man 
around  once  in  a  while,  and  we  ought  always  to  be  good 
to  the  women,  you  know." 

"  Well,  father,"  said  Klaus,  defending  himself,  "  that's 
all  true,  but  it's  pretty  hard  to  listen  and  not  put  in  an 
objection  now  and  then.  Have  Flora  examined  by  a  doc- 
tor and  send  her  to  some  institution.  And  don't  send  the 
boys  any  more  money.     You're  only  ruining  them." 

His  father  raised  a  warning  hand.  "  You  mustn't  say 
those  things,  my  boy,"  he  said  pleasantly.     "  Don't  try  to 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  273 

paint  such  horrors.  Don't  try  to  worry  us  with  all  those 
ideas.     And  above  all,  spare  your  little  wife." 

Klaus  gave  it  up  again. 

And  one  day  what  he  had  foretold  about  Flora  happened. 
It  came  one  evening,  after  two  steady  weeks  of  dull, 
gloomy  February  weather  —  of  the  sort  that  depresses  a 
sensitive  person  excessively.  Klaus,  sitting  in  the  little 
private  office  he  had  fitted  up  in  the  house  for  the  bank 
business,  was  busily  engaged  in  directing  the  young  assist- 
ant he  had  been  obliged  to  employ.  His  wife  and  the  baby 
were,  as  usual,  over  at  her  father's  house.  Suddenly  the 
servant  girl  from  there  appeared,  frightened  to  death,  and 
told  Klaus  breathlessly  that  the  older  daughter  was  be- 
having, oh,  so  queer,  and  that  he  was  to  hurry  over  at 
once. 

Klaus  jumped  up  and  ran  over.  He  found  his  wife  and 
her  father  and  mother  huddled  together  in  a  corner  behind 
the  mother's  lace-pillow,  staring  in  speechless  terror  toward 
the  door  opposite,  which  led  into  the  father  and  mother's 
bedroom.  From  Flora's  room,  which  opened  out  of  that, 
came  the  sound  of  loud  singing.  Klaus  at  once  passed 
through  the  bedroom  into  Flora's  room.  He  found  the 
sorry  little  figure  clothed  in  a  chemise,  sitting  on  the  edge 
of  the  bed.  She  was  sewing  some  broad  gold-colored  lace 
around  the  hem  of  her  black  Sunday  dress.  In  front  of 
her  was  an  old  chest  covered  with  cloth,  which  had  prob- 
ably been  her  dolls'  house  when  she  was  a  little  girl.  It 
was  filled  with  all  kinds  of  sorry  shiny  stuff,  piled  in  topsy- 
turvy, —  cheap  trinkets,  little  canisters,  a  few  silver  things, 
and  so  on.  In  a  loud  free  voice,  which  contrasted  strangely 
enough  with  her  usual  restrained  manner,  she  began  to 
sing,  "  When  the  swallows  homeward  fly,"  as  if  she  were 
sitting  alone  in  a  big  green  meadow.  As  her  needle  flew, 
she  kept  time  with  her  head.  Slie  had  combed  her  thin, 
gray-streaked  hair  loosely  behind,  child  fashion.  In  the 
whole  picture  Klaus  could  see  so  much  pure  childish  sim- 
plicity, beside  the  plainly  evident  insanity,  that  he  felt  an 
immediate  pity.  "  Well,  old  girl,"  he  said  cheerfully, 
"  what  are  you  doing  there  ?     Feeling  pretty  good  ?  " 

X 


274  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

She  looked  up.  "Hello,  Klaus,"  she  said  cordially. 
"  Hello,  hello  !  Well,  I've  got  the  letter.  Here,  read  it. 
I  haven't  time." 

She  handed  him  the  letter,  which  slie  had  plainly  writ- 
ten herself.  According  to  it  the  casket  was  waiting  for 
her  in  a  hotel  in  Hamburg.  The  signature  was  a  gro- 
tesque, illegible  scrawl. 

"Who's  going  along?  "she  asked.  "Are  you?  The  others 
are  all  so  queer.  They  haven't  got  the  spirit  to  realize  that 
everything's  changed.  Klaus  !  You  come  along  with  me, 
old  boy.     You're  the  lute-player." 

"  Of  course  I'm  coming  along,"  said  Klaus.  "  Why,  of 
course  I  am.  Make  yourself  as  pretty  as  you  can,  Flora. 
I'll  go  order  a  carriage." 

He  went  out  and  told  the  terror-stricken  family  that 
the  father  must  go  at  once  to  tell  the  family  doctor  how 
things  were,  and  then,  if  the  doctor  didn't  object,  he  must 
order  a  carriage  at  once,  so  that  Klaus  could  get  Flora 
to  the  asylum  in  Schleswig  that  day.  The  two  women 
shrieked  and  put  their  hands  over  their  ears,  begging  him 
pitifully  to  see  them  to  the  house  in  the  garden,  where  they 
would  stay  till  the  sick  woman  was  gone.  He  nodded, 
opened  the  door,  and  took  them  out.  The  father,  too,  re- 
fused to  see  his  daughter  again.  If  he  did,  he  said,  he 
would  never  be  able  to  sleep. 

An  hour  later,  Klaus  was  riding  beside  the  sick  woman 
in  a  closed  carriage  up  the  main  road  to  Schleswig.  Her 
insanity  had  grown  rapidly  worse.  Now  she  thought  the 
little  upholstered  chest  was  the  casket.  She  burrowed 
with  both  hands  among  the  shiny  trinkets,  talked  and  sang 
loudly,  overjoyed  at  going  to  Hamburg,  where  they  were 
expecting  her.  Klaus  Baas  sat  beside  her,  now  listening  to 
her  wild,  excited  talk,  now  looking  out  the  rattling  window 
across  the  moonlit  fields.  His  thoughts  were  not  pleasant 
ones.  Well,  now  it  had  gone  as  far  as  this  !  And  the 
trouble  would  not  be  disposed  of  when  this  poor  thing  had 
been  taken  to  Schleswig.  Five  or  six  hundred  marks 
would  have  to  be  sent  there  every  year  now.  And  then 
there   were  the  two  brothers-in-law.     Who    knew    what 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  275 

news  from  them  might  be  on  the  way  north  from  Berlin, 
even  now  while  he  was  riding  eastward  over  field  and 
heath  with  their  mad  sister  ?  One  of  them  was  married 
now,  and  had  cliildren,  who  would  call  him  uncle,  and 
would  want  him  to  help  them  out  some  day.  Their  father 
would  not  be  able  to  do  anything  for  them.  The  sick 
woman  certainly  got  her  disease  from  her  mother.  And 
the  father  was  a  slipshod,  weak  man,  afraid  to  face  realities. 
Well,  the  children  had  inherited  that  too.  The  whole 
family  was  diseased  —  worm-eaten — decadent!  A  horror 
came  over  him.  Decadent  !  Then  that  was  what  deca- 
dent meant.  He  had  often  read  the  word,  and  had  often 
used  it  himself,  but  without  a  real  conception  of  its  mean- 
ing ;  now,  in  a  moment,  the  monster  was  right  at  his  feet. 
He  had  married  into  a  decadent,  degenerating  family. 
And  his  little  wife  ?  Well,  his  little  wife  was  a  true  mem- 
ber of  this  family.  And  his  child,  the  little  girl,  was  just 
like  her  motlier.  She  had  the  same  calm,  drav/ling  voice 
—  not  a  bit  of  gay  pride  or  cheery  spirit.  .  .  .  The  sick 
woman  put  her  arm  around  his  shoulder  and  sang  a  dance 
melody  in  her  thin  voice.  The  moon,  hanging  very  low 
in  the  sky,  sent  its  light  far  over  the  country,  and  beamed 
through  the  rattling  window.  Klaus  Baas  had  time  to 
reflect. 

And  as  he  pondered,  he  withdrew  very  far  from  the 
people  to  whom  he  now  belonged.  And  he  withdrew 
from  all  men  —  for  it  is  only  by  so  doing  that  a  man  be- 
comes fully  himself  —  and  standing  alone,  he  scanned 
people  and  himself,  his  own  heart  and  his  own  way  of  life. 
It  was  certainly  true  that  he  himself,  a  Baas,  and  his 
father's  own  son — had  always  thought  and  acted  too 
quickly,  too  facilely,  with  an  imagination  that  ran  away 
with  itself.  Besides  this,  his  school  and  church  teaching 
had  led  him  astray.  Wliat  had  they  held  up  to  him  ? 
Nothing  but  fairy  tales,  heroic  deeds,  the  highest  morality, 
idealism  —  cloud  stuff,  all  of  it.  There  had  been  two 
gospels,  one  the  Saviour's,  the  other  Schiller's.  But  there 
had  been  nothing  at  all  about  the  experience  which  comes 
to    us   after   our   school   days  are  over  in  the  form  of  a 


276  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

passionate  need  ;  nothing  about  the  real  earthy  troubled 
nature  of  the  body  and  of  the  soul.  Nothing  whatever 
about  race,  sex,  procreation,  heredity.  Not  a  bit  of  real 
true  knowledge  of  life  anywhere.  ...  "  What  did  you 
say,  child  ?  You  think  the  bells  will  ring  when  we  get  to 
Hamburg  ?  I  hope  you're  right,  my  child  !  But  old 
Michael's  iron  head  only  shakes  when  it  wants  to." 

"  Oh,  how  soundly  and  proudly  I  might  be  standing  up 
in  the  world,  with  a  strong  companion  at  my  side,  and 
healthy,  handsome  children  growing  up  around  me  ! 
Hurrah  !  I'd  like  to  jumfp  out  of  the  carriage  and  run 
across  fields  and  fight  with  all  the  world  and  with  all  the 
ghosts  from  the  graves  and  vaults.  And  here  I  am,  bound 
and  imprisoned.  I  shall  have  to  live  with  these  people 
always  —  take  care  of  the  old  folks,  and  bury  them,  look 
after  and  support  the  two  sons  in  Berlin  and  their  chil- 
dren ;  and  have  around  me  forever  this  narrow,  timid  little 
wife.  I'll  have  to  be  head  of  a  hospital  as  long  as  I  live  ! 
There  they  were,  crouching  together  behind  the  lace-pil- 
low. They  were  afraid  of  this  poor  little  sick  thing.  —  Go 
on  and  sing,  Flora,  old  girl.  Come  on,  do  3^ou  know  that 
song, 

Anna  Susanna,  get  up  and  make  the  fire  — 
Ah,  my  dear  mother,  but  wood  is  so  dear! 

That's  what  the  girls  used  to  sing  when  we  played  under 
the  trees  in  the  churchyard." 

"  No,"  said  Flora,  "  I  want  to  sing 

It  was  on  Jutland's  meadows 
Upon  the  Little  Belt.  " 

"  Well,  that's  a  good  song,  too,"  said  Klaus.  "  Begin 
it,  then." 

Heretofore,  he  had  been  far  too  easy  in  doing  what  the 
family  wanted.  He  would  not  do  it  any  more.  He  would 
separate  from  them.  From  now  on,  in  the  bold  assurance 
that  he  was  the  healthy  one  and  that  his  affairs  were  the 
more  considerable,  he  would  go  his  own  Avay  ;  and  he 
would  inspire  his  little  wife  to  go  with  him.  That  was 
the  only  way  in  which  it  would  be  possible  to  make  her  a 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  277 

person  of  his  kind.  He  must  and  he  would  help  her 
through.  In  spite  of  everything,  she  was  his  dear  little 
wife. 

Toward  midnight  he  asked  the  coachman  whether  it 
would  not  be  well  to  turn  in  at  the  next  tavern  to  feed 
the  horses  and  get  a  sip  of  coffee.  The  gray  old  coach- 
man, who  had  made  this  same  sinister  trip  many  times, 
said  that  they  would  soon  come  to  a  good  inn.  A  little 
while  afterward  they  drove  through  a  long,  straggling 
village  where  everybody  was  asleep,  stopj^ed  in  front  of 
an  inn,  and  knocked. 

The  landlady,  a  nice-looking  woman,  scantily  clad,  came 
to  the  door  at  once.  Klaus  Baas  went  up  to  her  and  told 
her  in  a  low  voice  what  he  wanted.  She  nodded  sympa- 
thetically. "  I'm  glad  we  were  still  awake,"  she  said. 
"  My  niece  is  visiting  me.  She  was  talking  on  so  enter- 
tainingly that  we  forgot  to  go  to  sleep."  Going  to  the 
carriage  she  said  to  Flora,  "  Come  now,  you  shall  have  a 
nice  cup  of  coffee." 

The  sick  woman  stopped  her  singing.  "  Don't  be  so 
unceremonious,  my  good  woman,  if  you  please,"  she  said 
haughtily.     "  You  are  addressing  a  princess." 

"  Well,  now,"  said  the  tall  landlady,  with  a  world  of 
pleasantness  and  good  humor  in  her  voice,  "  I  didn't  know 
that  you  are  a  princess.  Then  won't  you  please  get  out 
and  have  a  cup  of  coffee  and  get  your  feet  warm,  prin- 
cess?" 

The  little  sick  woman  got  out  of  the  carriage  with  great 
dignity,  still  carefully  clasping  her  casket,  and  went  into 
the  house.  The  tall  landlady  followed  her,  looking  very 
grave.  Inside,  in  the  low  room,  with  its  shiny,  polished 
furniture,  she  made  Flora  sit  down  by  the  stove,  and  she 
put  a  cup  of  coffee  in  front  of  her.  Klaus  Baas  sat  down 
beside  her.  Then  the  landlady  poured  out  a  cup  for  her- 
self, too,  but  sat  with  it  at  the  next  table  beside  the  driver. 
"  It  isn't  fitting  that  I  should  sit  at  table  with  a  princess," 
she  said.  The  warm  air  of  the  room  made  Flora  tired, 
and  she  was  soon  drowsing. 

In  a  little  while  a  tall,  handsome   girl   came   in,  the 


278  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

youthful  image  of  the  landlady,  with  the  same  full,  regu- 
lar face  and  natural  composure  of  expression  and  move- 
ment. She  was  fastening  her  waist  as  she  came  in.  She 
looked  curiously  at  the  guests,  and  went  over  to  the  coffee- 
pot. 

"  A  handsome  creature,  landlady,"  said  Flora,  looking 
up. 

"Alas,  yes,  princess,"  said  the  landlady,  "but  she  is 
a  good  for  nothing." 

The  handsome  creature  gave  the  princess  a  puzzled  look, 
and  looked  in  quiet  inquiry  into  Klaus  Baas's  face.  Be- 
coming curious.  Flora  asked,  "  What's  the  matter  with 
her  —  is  she  a  strumpet?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  landlady,  "  but  she's  rather  downright, 
and,  well,  —  she  goes  pretty  far.  She's  an  audacious  thing, 
princess." 

"  Has  the  girl  a  trade  ?  "  the  sick  woman  went  on  con- 
descendingly. "  I  have  just  come  into  my  rights  and  my 
fortune,  of  which  I  have  up  to  this  time  been  deprived. 
I  need  a  maid." 

"  Oh,  my  goodness,"  the  landlady  answered,  "  she 
wouldn't  do  for  that.  She  smashes  absolutely  every- 
thing.    Besides,  she  has  a  trade  already.     She's  a  smith." 

"  A  smith?  "  Flora  said  arrogantly.  "  How  can  she  be? 
A  smith's  hands  are  black." 

"  She's  a  goldsmith,"  the  landlady  answered. 

"  Ah,"  cried  Flora,  in  a  burst  of  joy,  "  then  she  can  do 
me  a  favor."  She  opened  the  little  box,  hunted  around 
in  it,  and  took  out  several  poor  little  trinkets,  a  pair  of 
ear-rings,  a  necklace,  and  several  little  pins.  She  needed 
a  coronet,  she  said,  laying  the  sorry  trifles  on  the  table  in 
front  of  her. 

Now,  at  last,  the  girl  realized  what  was  the  matter  with 
the  guest.  She  cast  at  Klaus  Baas  a  horrified  glance, 
which  said  plainly,  "  Can  this  be  your  wife,  you  strong, 
handsome  fellow?  "  Then  with  her  eyes  full  of  respectful 
sympathy,  she  sat  doAvn  across  from  Flora.  She  trumped 
up  a  fine,  long,  careful  description  of  how  the  coronet 
ought  to  be  made,  and  once  in  a  while  as  she  talked  she 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  279 

turned  her  compassionate  eyes  on  Klaus  Baas.  Finally 
she  got  up  with  an  air  of  determination,  and  went  into 
the  next  room,  where  they  heard  her  working  with  the 
straps  and  fastenings  of  a  trunk.  She  came  back  with  a 
simple  hoop  of  gold,  prettily  twisted  and  buckled.  Lay- 
ing it  on  the  table  in  front  of  Flora,  she  said,  ''■  That's 
what  I've  made." 

Flora  clutched  it  eagerly.  "  I  shall  take  it  with  me," 
she  said  to  Klaus  Baas;  "pay  for  it  for  me."  And  she 
put  on  the  hoop,  which  contrasted  strangely  enough  with 
her  disordered  gray  hair  and  her  haggard  face. 

Klaus  Baas  was  embarrassed,  but  the  handsome  girl 
nodded  to  him  behind  Flora's  back,  and  said  casually,  in  a 
low  tone,  "  It  won't  be  needed  till  next  week.  We're  going 
to  have  a  little  carnival  on  Shrove  Tuesday  —  it  will  be  all 
right." 

Flora  must  have  seen  that  something  was  passing  be- 
tween them,  and  said,  very  gracious  now  that  she  was  so 
adorned,  "  You  two  go  well  together,  Klaus.  You  ought 
to  have  a  wife  like  that.  My,  what  a  handsome  bosom 
she  has,  and  what  magnificent  shoulders.  And  you've 
both  got  eyes  like  deer.  I  wouldn't  object  to  your  marry- 
ing. Hurry  up  and  marry  her,  Klaus.  She  won't  freeze 
you  out." 

'••  Well,"  the  landlady  said,  "  she'd  do  it  in  a  minute, 
that's  sure,  for  she's  fairly  crazy  about  men.  But  he  has 
a  wife  already,  as  I  see  by  the  ring  on  his  hand." 

''  Oh,  that  doesn't  hurt,"  Flora  said.  "  Let  him  have 
one  more." 

"  Well,"  said  the  landlady  again,  "  it  certainly  wouldn't 
be  such  a  terrible  thing  for  some  men  to  have  two  wives  and 
some  to  have  none.  And  it's  the  same  with  women.  But 
when  I  said  that  to  my  pastor  not  long  ago,  he  thought  I 
was  crazy." 

"  Craz)^  ?  "  said  Flora,  contemptuously,  tugging  the  hoop 
farther  down  on  her  head;  "you're  no  more  crazy  than  I 
am.  But  pastors  try  to  settle  everything  in  one  and  the 
same  way.  I  suppose  we  aren't  all  hatched  out  just  alike, 
are  we  ?  " 


280  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

Klaus  Baas  rose  and  reminded  her  that  they  must  go. 
Flora  rose  and  tripped  along  in  front  of  him,  followed  by 
the  landlady.  Klaus  Baas  looked  around  at  the  handsome 
girl,  who  was  looking  at  him  with  big,  questioning  eyes. 
"  She  certainly  isn't  your  wife  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  No,"  said  Klaus. 

"Thank  God!"  she  said,  looking  at  him  with  evident 
joy.     "  Your  wife  is  healthy  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I'm  glad,"  she  said,  absolutely  without  embarrass- 
ment. 

As  she  stood  there  close  to  him  in  the  narrow  hallway, 
Klaus  looked  straight  into  her  glowing  eyes.  "  Are  you 
as  much  interested  in  me  as  that  ?  "  he  said,  with  some 
emotion. 

She  met  his  glance  valiantl}^  although  a  slight  flush 
spread  over  her  cheeks.  "  Oh,  I  just  mean  —  you  certainly 
ought  to  have  a  strong  healthy  wife.     Otherwise  —  " 

"  Otherwise  what  ?  "  he  said. 

She  drew  back  a  little  toward  the  wall.  "  Oh,  because," 
she  said,  superb  in  her  tempting  beauty,  "  otherwise  I 
would  make  you  forget  your  wife." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  sudden  overmastering  passion. 
"  What  your  aunt  said  is  true,"  he  said;  "you  are  pretty 
downright  and  pretty  audacious,  do  you  know  it  ?  But 
I'm  glad  I  met  you,"  and  he  held  out  his  hand. 

She  seemed  to  have  shrunk  a  little.  She  stood  there 
silent,  almost  overcome  by  his  handshake  and  his  look. 
Then  she  went  ahead  and  held  the  light  for  them  to  get 
into  the  carriage. 

And  now  he  was  sitting  again  beside  the  mad  woman, 
who  was  alwa3^s  either  burrowing  in  her  box,  or  raving 
excitedly  about  her  wild  fancies,  or  asking  distrustful 
questions.  Again  the  broad  fields  and  dark  houses  lay  in 
the  moonlight.  And  again  the  moonlight  came  in  the 
window. 

Klaus  could  not  tear  his  thoughts  away  from  the  simple 
brown  room  in  which  that  girl's  eyes  had  been  like  great 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  281 

glowing  lights.  Now  there  were  two  liealthy,  strong, 
energetic  people.  What  buoyancy  showed  in  their  shoul- 
ders, breasts,  and  hips  !  How  kindly  and  wisely  they  had 
acted  in  that  strange  situation  —  just  as  if  they  knew  and 
accepted  quietly  all  the  manifold  variet}^  of  nature;  as  if, 
indeed,  they  were  a  part  of  great  and  wide  nature  herself. 
It  would  certainly  be  a  pleasure  to  spend  a  day  walking 
with  her;  what  a  stimulating  companion  she  would  make 
—  for  she  is  always  cheerful,  she  sees  everything,  feels 
everything.  She  plays  on  her  soul  all  the  tunes  conceived 
between  heaven  and  earth.  What  in  the  world  would  she 
say  if  she  were  to  look  in  on  the  family  at  the  woodyard  ? 
She  would  shrug  her  supple  shoulders  in  that  handsome 
way  and  say,  "These  are  just  about  half  people."  If  I 
told  her  how  they  cowered  behind  the  lace-pillow  last 
evening,  her  fine  e3^es  would  be  full  of  contempt  and  scorn- 
ful pity.  And  if  she  were  to  see  my  little  wife,  she  would 
say,  "A  true  child  of  this  family  —  and  she  isn't  suited  to 
him!" 

She  wasn't  suited  to  him  !  And  she  had  pleased  him 
so  much  four  years  ago  —  pleased  him  beyond  anything  ! 
How  could  that  have  been  possible  ?  He  had  been  so  im- 
mature then,  in  spite  of  his  twenty-six  years.  He  had 
known  a  little  about  business  —  but  nothing  about  life. 
With  the  stupid  idealism  of  a  young  German,  who  knows 
nothing  about  real  nature,  he  had  built  up  a  fanciful 
picture  about  her  and  about  everything  else.  Well,  the 
picture  had  not  been  a  true  one.  At  that  time  he  had 
been  trying  to  find  something  pretty,  delicate,  and  timid  ; 
he  was  to  be  the  helper  and  the  hero.  In  Martje  there 
was  not  a  bit  of  the  power  of  race  that  of  itself  develops 
into  strength.  She  had  no  fervor  —  no  clarity.  She  was 
a  very  tiny  kingdom  —  too  small  for  him.  He  had  not 
realized  that  some  day  he  would  be  a  strong,  broad  man, — 
a  man  of  will  and  of  action,  a  man  that  needed  a  strong, 
broad  wife,  a  strong,  energetic,  perhaps  a  bit  scornful 
companion,  a  goodly  proud  kingdom.  And  his  child  was 
like  its  mother  :  it  had  even  been  conceived  and  accepted 
quite  without  joy. 


282  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

But  what  a  girl  that  had  been,  standing  there  against 
the  wall  in  the  entry,  conquered  by  his  eyes,  and  never- 
theless conquering  him  !  He  knew  how  she  would  be  in 
the  hours  of  love.  On  her  wedding  night  she  would  not 
be  as  Martje  Ruhland  had  been  four  years  ago.  How 
she  had  stood  there  —  and  looked  at  him!  Not  boldly, 
not  wantonly  —  no,  no  —  but  like  a  fresh,  healthy,  sound 
person.  I — a  person  like  you!  Dear  beautiful  wife 
that  you  would  be  !  It  would  be  wonderful  to  have  a 
wife  like  that  to  rule  over.  It  would  be  a  constant  happy 
struggle,  always  renewed,  a  continual  good  fight  and 
victory.  And  that  sort  of  battle  didn't  break  a  man  — 
either  in  soul  or  body. 

Flora  was  leaning  more  heavily  upon  him.  After  a 
little  more  singing,  "  My  prince  and  my  lord,"  she  fell 
asleep  in  his  arms,  the  gold  coronet  presented  by  the 
handsome  girl  all  awry  in  her  disorderly,  thin  hair. 

In  the  damp  gray  dawn  the  carriage  rolled  heavily  into 
the  yard  of  the  asylum. 

Late  that  afternoon  Klaus  Baas  reached  home  again, 
and  went  straight  to  his  private  office.  He  found  his  little 
wife  sitting  bolt  upright  at  her  lace  making  in  the  lamp- 
light. Her  face  looked  hard  and  cold,  though  her  eyes 
were  swollen  with  weeping.  He  told  her  briefly  how 
things  had  gone.  Amazed  that  she  did  not  look  up  at 
him,  he  asked,  "  What's  the  matter,  Martje  ?  " 

"  Aunt  Hanne  and  Frau  Biedermann  say  you're  to 
blame  for  Flora's  sickness,"  she  answered,  in  an  unusually 
cold  voice  ;  "  and  mother  thinks  so  too  —  she  thinks  you'll 
drive  us  all  crazy." 

"What  —  I  ?"  Klaus  answered,  tapping  his  chest,  per- 
fectly astounded. 

"  Yes,  you,  with  your  everlasting  restlessness,  and  your 
planning  and  wanting  things  different  —  you  made  her 
restless  and  queer." 

Speechless  and  wholly  disheartened,  Klaus  sat  down  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  table,  stared  straight  ahead,  and 
tried  to  collect  himself.     In  a  few  minutes  he  broke  out 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  283 

impulsively,  "  Oh,  you  people  !  So  you  throw  off  on 
other  folks  the  blame  for  being  such  a  pitiful,  incapable 
lot  !  Your  father  can't  get  up  early  in  the  morning. 
Your  mother  can't  bear  to  look  at  a  sick  girl.  Your 
brothers  can't  support  themselves.  You  can't  get  along 
without  being  over  home  half  the  time.  The  baby  can't 
manage  to  eat  its  food.  There's  something  every  one  of 
you  can't  do.  And  what  of  me  ?  I  can  do  anything  — 
unless  it's  dancing  the  tiolit  rope.  I  can  do  anything 
that's  straight  and  wise  and  brave.  I  can  get  up  before 
cockcrow ;  I  can  help  the  sick  in  trouble  ;  I  can  earn 
money ;  and  I  can  live  at  the  North  Pole,  if  I  have  to.  I 
can  do  anything.  And  more  than  that  :  I  could  kill  any 
man  that  keeps  me  from  living  in  a  way  that's  straight 
and  sensible  and  amounts  to  something.  I  tell  you,  Martje 
Ruhland,  I'm  going  to  go  my  own  way.  And  you  are 
either  going  right  along  with  me  as  a  real  comrade,  or 
you're  going  to  stay  back  there  altogether.  I'm  going  to 
own  my  own  soul." 

Martje's  little  hands  dropped  from  the  lace-pillow. 
Her  haughtiness  and  anger  had  vanished  altogether. 
"I've  always  known,"  she  wept,  "that  you  were  better 
than  all  of  us.  You  don't  need  to  tell  me  that.  That's 
why  I've  been  afraid  of  you  from  the  very  beginning. 
Even  in  the  night  when  you're  asleep  I'm  afraid  of  you. 
'  I  wonder  what  plans  he's  making  in  his  dreams,'  I  say  to 
myself.  And  I  don't  want  to  have  any  more  children, 
ever.  I  hate  that  more  than  anything.  And  that  will 
always  stand  between  us." 

Touched  by  her  piteous  little  moan,  and  eager  to  help 
her  and  himself,  Klaus  said  gently  :  "  But  you're  different 
from  the  rest,  Martje.  Really,  you  are  more  alive  and 
straighter  than  they  are." 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  said,  with  a  look  of 
helpless  distress  on  her  pretty  little  face,  "  no,  no,  I'm  not 
different.  I  know  very  well  that  you're  still  good  to  me 
because  you're  thinking,  '  Soon  I  can  just  raise  the  lid  and 
find  a  lot  of  nice  things  inside  ! '  But  you're  wrong, 
Klaus.     There's  nothing  inside  that  you  want.     I'm  the 


284  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

real  child  of  my  parents,  and  we  two  will  never  under- 
stand each  other.  And  it's  horrible  —  for  I  love  you  so 
in  spite  of  everything." 

The  tears  fell  fast  on  the  fine,  delicate  lace  she  was 
working  on.  She  looked  so  unspeakably  pathetic,  so 
thoroughly  wretched,  when  she  cried  all  over  her  little  face. 
Klaus  petted  her,  feeling  intensely  sorry  for  her,  and  dried 
her  tears.  "  There,  there,"  he  said,  "  hush  now  —  what  I 
said  was  too  hard.  Everything  will  still  be  all  right. 
And  we  two  now  —  didn't  we  begin  our  married  life  with 
the  biggest  kind  of  love  ?  See  here  now  —  we  must  begin 
to  understand  each  other,  really.  Just  trust  me,  and 
hold  fast  to  me,  Martje.  I'll  bring  you  safe  through 
life!" 

But  she  shook  her  head,  and  refused  to  be  comforted. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

It  would  have  been  a  good  thing,  perhaps,  if  she  had 
had  more  children  —  a  son,  say,  like  Klaus  in  looks  and 
temperament  ;  but  she  had  only  the  one  child,  to  which 
she  gave  a  mournful  little  affection.  Early  in  the  morn- 
ing she  went  over  with  the  child  to  sit  for  hours  by  her 
sick  mother's  bed,  listening  to  her  and  to  her  aunt's  idle 
talk,  while  the  baby  was  playing  at  the  table. 

Klaus  begged  her  to  take  the  child  out  into  the  fields, 
or  to  let  it  play  with  the  other  children  in  the  garden,  and 
urged  her  to  get  acquainted  with  some  nice  women  and 
girls.  She  did  what  he  asked,  but  in  an  artificial  sort  of 
way  ;  she  soon  had  one  objection  or  another  to  them  —  they 
struck  her  as  too  free  and  easy,  too  outspoken,  or  too  noisy  ; 
and  then  it  was  all  over,  and  she  was  spending  her  time 
as  before,  sitting  at  her  mother's  bedside  or  at  her  lace 
making.  For  a  long  time  Klaus  Baas  hadn't  been  able  to 
endure  the  light  tapping  of  the  wooden  bobbins  ;  and 
the  delicate  cobweb  that  she  was  always  making  had 
long  ago  come  to  seem  to  him  a  symbol  of  her  whole  frail, 
restricted  life. 

If  he  had  been  a  superficial,  selfish  man,  with  as  slight 
spiritual  needs  as  most  men  have,  he  would  have  let  his 
wife  live  along  in  the  way  she  wanted,  as  did  one  of  the 
city  officials,  for  example,  —  a  capable,  serious  man,  whose 
duties  often  took  him  out  into  the  country,  and  who 
seldom  saw  his  wife  to  speak  to.  He  was  always  in 
his  office  or  driving  around  the  country  ;  she  was  always 
in  the  kitchen  or  with  the  children  or  visiting  friends  ; 
and  both  of  them  seemed  satisfied  with  their  own  circle- 
Klaus  Baas  was  often  called  awa}^  on  business,  too  ;  he  had 
to  hunt  up  customers  through  the  country,  and  go  to 
the  neighboring  towns  and  to  Hamburg  for  the  bank  ;  and 

285 


286  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

each  day  he  tried  to  study  out  the  significance  of  that 
day's  business.  When  he  got  home  in  the  evenings, 
however,  he  wanted  to  find  a  real  companion,  wlio  would 
share  in  allthe  workings  of  his  active  mind.  What  he 
found  was  a  little  woman  sitting  like  a  spider  in  her  little 
web,  looking  at  him  with  great  alien  eyes.  It  is  true 
that  she  liked  to  be  asked  often  about  her  mother  and  her 
aunt,  and  about  what  she  was  doing  now  and  how  it  was 
getting  along  ;  and  sometimes  she  even  liked  to  be  told 
that  their  whole  enterprise  would  end  some  day  in  a  heavy 
financial  loss  or  some  other  sort  of  trouble.  Once,  when 
he  happened  to  tell  her  how  much  he  had  cleared  for 
himself  that  day,  she  said  indifferently,  in  a  depressed, 
dubious  tone,  "  We  always  have  managed  to  live,  Klaus, 
and  who  knows  whether  all  this  is  a  good  thing  after 
all."  Then  a  fit  of  anger  seized  him,  and  he  scolded  her, 
telling  her  that  she  ought  to  pull  herself  together,  and  not 
let  herself  be  influenced  by  those  old  women,  but  stand 
by  him  and  his  work.  Then  she  cried,  and  said  that  he 
was  always,  always  wanting  her  to  be  different  from  what 
she  was,  and  that  this  eternal  antagonism  was  killing  her. 

A  series  of  depressing  days  followed.  She  stayed  with 
him  in  the  evenings,  but  sat  taciturn  and  gloomy,  working 
at  her  little  lace-pillow.  Only  after  several  days  did  she 
become  a  little  more  cheerful.  And  then  she  went  back 
to  her  mother's. 

So  a  definite  character  gradually  developed  in  her,  that 
grew  firmer  and  more  clear-cut  in  the  steady  conflict. 
But  this  very  character,  complaining,  irritable,  petty,  sus- 
picious, was  exactly  the  opposite  of  the  character  Klaus 
Baas  had  and  wanted  to  have.  And  thus  gradually  their 
incompatibility  took  definite  form.  Several  weeks  after- 
ward, when  he  blazed  out,  irritated  at  the  misery  of  their 
life  together,  she  fell  to  crying,  in  unspeakable  misery. 
She  said  that  she  knew  perfectly  well  that  he  was  stronger 
and  abler  than  she  was,  and  that  he  was  not  happy  with 
her,  and  couldn't  be ;  it  tortured  her  to  realize  this,  but 
she  couldn't  change  herself ;  she  wasn't  fit  for  anything 
but  sitting  with  her  mother.     She  wept  as  if  her  heart 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  287 

would  break,  and  her  pretty  little  face  was  so  pitifully 
distorted  that  Klaus  pleaded  with  her  in  every  way  he 
could,  in  his  effort  to  console  her.  Her  recognition  of  the 
situation  and  her  despair  gave  him  new  hope  ;  but  after 
a  few  days  she  fell  back  into  her  old  rut  again.  The  same 
thing  happened  over  and  over  again ;  gradually  these 
scenes,  when  he  was  scornful  and  angry,  and  she  was 
mournful,  came  regularly  every  tliree  or  four  weeks,  as  if 
they  were  definitely  appointed  and  arranged. 

A  man  and  his  wife,  who  were  about  as  old  as  Klaus 
and  his  wife,  and  had  been  married  about  as  long,  came  to 
live  in  the  city.  The  husband,  an  able  scholar,  was  a 
teacher  in  the  high  school.  He  was  very  much  taken 
with  the  young  business  man's  wide-awake  air,  had  heard 
a  great  deal  about  his  abilit}",  and  hoped  to  find  in  him 
something  to  oft'set  his  own  bookishness.  His  cheerful 
young  wife  wanted  him  to  broaden  his  life  in  this  way, 
and  she  herself  liked  to  go  around  with  the  young  mer- 
chant, who  carried  his  head  so  high.  Klaus's  pretty, 
rather  sour  little  wife  they  had  to  take  in  too.  They 
came  in  as  if  by  chance  one  evening,  and  had  a  good  talk 
on  everything  under  the  sun.  Klaus  Baas  was  glad  to 
hear  something  again  that  "  got  the  world  along  a  little," 
as  he  put  it ;  he  didn't  mind  having  this  woman  with  the 
shining  brown  eyes  cut  into  their  talk  now  and  then,  with 
much  the  air  of  a  frisky  puppy  disporting  among  wise  old 
hens,  and  he  was  satisfied  to  have  his  wife  sit  quietly  by. 
So  things  went  on  for  several  weeks. 

But  one  evening  Martje  said  that  she  had  rather  not  go 
to  the  teacher's  house  that  evening,  because  she  had  a 
headache.  When  he  urged  her  to  go,  she  said  that  she 
didn't  like  that  woman.  And  when  he  pressed  her,  it 
finally  came  out  that  slie  had  laid  it  up  against  the  woman 
that  she  had  never  asked  how  her  sick  mother  Avas.  And 
besides,  her  mother  wasn't  at  all  well  that  evening,  and  — 
finally  —  she  understood  so  little  of  what  they  talked 
about.  She  begged  him  to  go  there  alone,  however,  for 
she  didn't  want  to  spoil  his  pleasure.  As  she  passed  him, 
she  stroked  his  head  with  her  soft  little  hand. 


288  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Klaus  shook  his  head  and  sat  there  stupidly,  his  courage 
completely  gone.  Seeing  how  sad  he  was,  and  growing 
anxious,  she  finally  offered,  in  her  mournful  little  voice,  to 
go  along  after  all.  She  hadn't  supposed,  she  said,  that  he 
cared  so  much  whether  she  went  along. 

He  stared  at  her,  not  knowing  what  to  say.  "You 
didn't  know  I  cared,  Martje  ? "  he  said.  "You  didn't 
know  I  cared?  Oh,  Martje,  just  tell  me,  please,  what 
share  I  have  of  your  life  !  Are  you  my  wife  ?  Only  un- 
willingly, if  at  all.  Are  you  my  housekeeper?  We've  a 
good  maid  that  attends  to  all  that ;  things  run  along  with- 
out your  help.  Are  you  my  comrade  ?  You  certainly 
aren't  ;  you  don't  want  to  share  my  interests,  and  you 
don't  do  it.  Have  we  even  a  child  together?  No,  the 
child  is  all  yours  ;  you  are  bringing  it  up  altogether  ac- 
cording to  your  ideas  and  your  mother's.  What  have  we 
in  common  still  ?  Well,  we  still  eat  our  meals  together, 
that's  about  all !  "  He  got  up  and  went  to  the  window, 
twisting  at  his  wedding  ring,  and  said  in  utter  misery, 
"  What  a  life  !     What  a  life  !  " 

She  began  to  cry,  as  usual,  so  bitterly  that  he  could  not 
stand  it  long,  and  turned  back  to  her.  She  was  sitting 
there,  her  hands  laid  on  the  table  in  front  of  her,  with  such 
deep  grief  in  her  tear-washed  face  that  pity  seized  him. 
He  drew  her  down  on  the  sofa  beside  him  and  put  his  arm 
around  her,  as  she  sat  there,  shaking  with  sobs. 

She  went  on  complaining  and  weeping  mournfully,  her 
delicate  little  face  fixed  and  set,  as  if  she  were  staring  into 
the  burning  misery  to  come. 

"  I  know,"  she  wailed,  "  that  some  day  we'll  separate, 
and  yet — I  love  you.  But  I  cannot,  cannot,  be  anything 
but  what  I  am.  And  you  cannot  be  anything  but  what 
you  are.     You  love  me  too,  I  know." 

Klaus  made  light  of  the  idea  of  separating.  "Don't 
talk  of  such  a  thing!  "  he  said.  "  Separate  !  why,  you  say 
yourself  we  love  each  other  ;  so  why  should  we  separate  ? 
I'll  never  leave  you  ;  I'd  rather  die  I  I've  sworn  to  stand 
by  you  all  ray  life  ;  and  I'll  keep  my  word  !  " 

She  held  her  hand  over  her  mouth,  to  keep  back  her 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  289 

sobs.  Starinj^  fixedly,  and  crying  steadily,  she  said,  "  Oh, 
yes,  our  intentions  are  good  —  we  both  mean  well,  Klaus  ; 
that  isn't  what  is  wrong.  It's  that  our  natures  are  so 
different  that  we  are  always  hurting  each  other's  feelings. 
Just  think  of  it  a  minute :  thirty  or  forty  years  more  of 
this!  It  was  simply  childish  for  us  to  get  married.  We 
didn't  know  each  other  at  all  then.  We  didn't  even  know 
ourselves.  It  is  only  in  the  last  few  years  that  we  have 
really  become  mature  ;  but  unluckily  we  have  grown  away 
from  each  other.  You  have  been  getting  stronger,  and 
more  free  and  venturesome  ;  and  I  have  been  getting  more 
frail  and  timid  all  the  time.     That's  our  whole  trouble." 

He  was  surprised  at  her  saying  all  this,  but  determined 
not  to  admit  that  she  was  right.  "  What  use  is  there 
in  talking  about  our  natures  !  "  he  said.  "  We  come  from 
the  same  part  of  the  country,  we  believe  in  the  same  God, 
we  both  want  to  do  what  is  right  ;  the  devil  is  in  it  if  we 
can't  stand  each  other.  It's  only  that  we  must  both  take 
it  more  seriously.  And  besides,  we'll  both  get  older  and 
steadier." 

She  shook  her  pretty  head.  "  You're  mistaken,  Klaus. 
You  and  I  don't  feel,  why,  we  don't  even  notice,  that  we  are 
hurting  each  other  with  every  word  we  say,  with  our  way 
of  looking  at  things  ;  we  act  naturally  and  involuntarily, 
and  do  what  seems  right  and  good  to  us.  The  trouble  is, 
that  what  one  of  us  thinks  is  good  and  right,  the  other  calls 
wrong.  It's  true  we  were  born  less  than  six  miles  apart  ; 
but  we  are  as  different  as  if  one  of  us  had  been  born  in 
Lapland  and  the  other  in  India.  If  I  knew  enough,  I 
could  say  what  I  mean  better." 

Her  hopelessness  made  Klaus  more  thoughtful.  Casting 
around  for  some  salvation  from  their  misery,  he  said, 
"  The  worst  thing  about  it  all  is  your  family.  Why  did 
we  ever  squat  down  here  so  close  to  them!  Well,  sooner 
or  later  the  bank  will  open  an  office  in  Hamburg  ;  perhaps 
I  might  take  that  place.  Or  I  could  hunt  some  other 
work  there.     Come  to  Hamburg  with  me  !  " 

She  twisted  her  handkerchief  around  her  fingers  and 
cried  violently.     "  No,  Klaus,  I  —  I  can't  leave  my  mother 


290  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

—  she  is  getting  old  —  and  perhaps  my  sister  may  come 
back  —  and  —  we're  so  unlike,  Klaus,  we  don't  belong  to- 
gether —  you're  like  a  wolf,  Klaus,  and  I'm  like  a  little 
rabbit!" 

She  laid  her  little  blond  head  on  his  breast  and  cried 
bitterly.  "  Oh,  it's  such  a  great  misfortune  that  we  love 
each  other  —  or  at  least  that  I  love  you  ;  but  I  do  believe 
I  could  stand  it  better  if  you  were  only  far  away  from  me, 
if  I  knew  that  you  were  happy,  and  if  I  were  living  along 
quietly  in  my  own  way  with  the  child.  You'll  never  be 
happy  this  way,  Klaus,  and  neither  will  I." 

The  room  was  getting  dark.  Seeing  no  comfort  any- 
where, Klaus  gazed  out  over  her  shaking  head.  In  wild, 
angry  grief,  he  thought,  "  Are  we  both  possessed  ?  Don't 
we  both  want  to  do  what  is  right  ?  Isn't  she  reasonable 
and  well-disposed  ?  I  can't  live  with  her,  can't  I  ?  Nor 
she  with  me  ?  And  that's  to  be  the  end,  is  it  ?  After 
those  four  blissful  summer  days  !  It's  wild  !  I  won't 
have  it  !  " 

After  this  talk  things  went  well  for  several  weeks. 
They  met  each  other  halfway.  But  this  spirit  of  con- 
cession was  forced  and  artificial,  because  it  went  against 
their  inmost  nature,  and  one  day  they  got  back  to  the 
same  old  place  again.  One  of  their  neighbors  had  got  her 
excited  about  whether  Klaus  could  resist  the  tempta- 
tions he  was  exposed  to  in  his  confidential  position  at  the 
bank.  Klaus  rasred  because  his  own  wife  doubted  whether 
he  was  worthy  of  trust  —  a  merchant's  highest  honor  and 
most  essential  qualification.  At  first  she  was  altogether 
surprised  that  he  resented  her  "  warning,"  as  she  awk- 
wardly called  it ;  then  she  cried  a  great  deal,  and  was 
horribly  miserable  again.  And  so  they  lived  along  to- 
gether, depressed  and  silent. 

Several  days  later,  before  they  had  got  over  the  de- 
pression of  this  fresh  quarrel,  Martje's  oldest  brother  came 
home  unexpectedly,  after  having  avoided  his  parents' 
house  for  over  ten  years.  He  was  about  forty  years  old, 
and  was  kindly,  prosperous,  and  assured  —  very  different 
from  his  brothers  and  sisters.     During  the  first  two  days 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  291 

he  sat  in  his  mother's  room  or  walked  for  hours  with  his 
sister  and  the  baby  around  the  garden,  where  the  first 
spring  blossoms  were  coming  out.  Then  at  last  he  went 
into  the  office  to  see  his  brother-in-law.  Klaus  received 
him  coolly  and  cautiously. 

The  two  men  lived  together  for  three  or  four  days,  at- 
tended to  business  together,  and  talked  about  everything 
that  came  up.  Each  made  the  discovery  that  the  other 
was  a  man  of  common  sense  and  honor.  The  great  differ- 
ence between  them  was  that  on  this  foundation  of  common 
sense  and  honesty  the  easy-going  wood  dealer  wanted  to 
build  up  little  more  than  a  good  living  and  a  reputation 
of  being  an  honest  and  agreeable  sort  of  fellow,  while 
Klaus  Baas  wanted  to  build  a  tower  that  would  reach  the 
skies. 

On  the  fourth  day  of  the  brother's  visit,  the  young 
married  couple  invited  them  to  use  the  fine  spring  day 
for  a  little  excursion  into  the  wood  on  the  lonely  hills 
on  the  heath.  It  was  several  hours'  trip  from  town. 
Klaus  Baas  was  immensely  pleased ;  he  hoped  that  this  big 
brother  was  having  a  good  influence  on  the  little  woman, 
and  making  things  go  right  with  her  again.  And  when 
it  was  settled  that  her  brother  was  going  along,  she  was 
glad  too,  for  his  easy-going,  quiet,  limited  way  accorded 
well  with  her  own. 

They  took  the  train  to  the  next  station  and  then  walked 
along  the  broad  sandy  road  to  the  wood.  The  wide  road 
ran  on  through  the  wood,  and  the  sun  shone  warmly  in 
upon  it.  The  sunshine  and  the  fresh  green  on  fir,  birch, 
and  hazel  brush  on  both  sides  of  the  road  made  them  all 
feel  gay. 

The  young  teacher,  eager  to  learn,  as  usual,  began  to 
ask  the  brother  questions  about  his  business  and  his  life 
in  general.  The  brother  talked  along  easily  about  heavy 
Danish  horses,  and  unreliable  contractors,  and  about  sev- 
eral hard  sledge  trips  through  the  pine  woods  of  Dalecarlia. 
He  passed  easily,  however,  from  descriptions  of  his  busi- 
ness to  pleasant  talk  about  his  holidays.  In  a  sociable 
way  he  talked  at  length  about  what  he  liked  to  drink  at 


292  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

night,  and  about  his  neat  little  household,  which  was  man- 
aged by  an  elderly  widow.  "If  you  weren't  married, 
Martje,"  he  said  to  his  sister,  who  was  walking  ahead  of 
him  with  the  teacher's  pretty  wife,  "  if  you  weren't  mar- 
ried, I'd  take  you  along  with  me  now,  and  the  baby,  too. 
You'd  like  that.  My  establishment's  always  quiet  and 
run  on  the  minute.  It's  slow  and  comfortable,  and  the 
money's  on  the  table  at  the  stroke  of  twelve  on  the  first 
of  every  month." 

His  sister  turned  to  him  and  nodded  vehemently,  in  a 
way  in  which  she  had  never  assented  to  any  sentiment 
Klaus  Baas  expressed. 

They  strolled  along,  the  two  women  ahead,  and  the 
three  men  behind  them,  all  listening  cheerfully  to  the  chat 
of  Klaus's  brother-in-law.  Suddenly  the  teacher's  wife, 
who  had  been  running  her  foot  playfully  through  the  sand, 
turned  up  a  horseshoe.  She  picked  it  up,  crying  gayly, 
"  That  means  good  luck,"  and  giving  a  long,  happy  look 
at  her  husband,  with  whom  —  intoxicated  by  the  first  day 
of  spring  —  she  had  agreed  that  very  morning  that  now 
they  should  have  another  child.  Then  she  cast  down  her 
eyes  and  blushed.  She  tried  to  press  the  horseshoe  over 
her  dainty  round  shoulder,  and,  taking  her  companion's 
arm  again,  went  on. 

After  this  little  happening,  Klaus's  wife  became  silent, 
and  walked  on  drearily,  with  downcast  eyes.  Klaus  saw 
it  and  went  up  to  her.  He  took  her  arm,  hesitated  a 
moment,  and  then  walked  on  with  her  alone.  Full  of  pity 
for  her  silence  and  depression,  and  touched  by  her  dainty 
girlish  beauty,  he  put  his  arm  around  her  shoulders  as 
they  walked,  and  told  her  cheerily  that  things  would  be 
all  right  even  yet.  In  this  way  they  got  about  a  stone's 
throw  from  the  others,  and  were  at  last  quite  alone  at  a 
turn  of  the  road.  She  listened  to  him  with  tearful  eyes, 
nestling  close  to  him.  In  a  sweet,  shy,  conscious  way,  she 
was  feeling  with  her  foot  in  the  sand,  when  it  struck  some- 
thing hard,  and  a  bent  piece  of  iron  appeared.  With  a 
low,  pitiful  cry  of  joy,  she  bent  down  and  picked  it  up. 
It  was  only  a  piece  of  a  broken  hearth-ring. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  293 

Bursting  into  hot  tears,  she  dropped  it  and  hid  her  face. 

He  tried  to  console  her,  but  he  felt  discouraged  himself. 
He  couldn't  help  thinking  how  fitting  her  find  was,  after 
all.  He  felt  desperate  and  harried.  "  Here  I  am,"  he 
thought,  "  shut  out  from  all  the  joys  of  life,  from  even  the 
noblest  of  all,  the  doing  of  worthy  and  virtuous  deeds  — 
all  because  I  was  foolish  for  a  space  of  four  days,  six  years 
ago.  And  here  I  am,  bound  for  a  lifetime !  And  so  is 
she  —  she's  absolutely  wretched  and  dreary."  He  looked 
down  at  her  as  she  walked  along  in  silent  misery,  full  of 
contrast  to  the  beautiful  springtime,  her  tearful  eyes  look- 
ing straight  ahead  in  her  usual  touching  way.  "  We 
simply  torment  each  other,"  Klaus  said  to  himself.  "  The 
poor  dear  little  thing  !  " 

When  they  got  home  and  had  had  supper,  Klaus's  brother- 
in-law  took  him  into  the  office.  "  I'm  going  to  leave  to- 
morrow," he  said,  "  and  I  want  to  speak  to  you  first  about 
my  sister.  Since  her  father  renounces  his  right  to  speak 
in  this  matter  —  and  in  many  others  —  I,  as  her  oldest 
brother,  have  the  right  to  do  it.  She  wrote  me  a  long 
letter  about  this,  and  it  was  only  on  this  account  that  I 
forced  myself  to  come  back  home  again.  It  isn't  my  way 
—  it's  quite  contrary  to  it,  in  fact  —  to  meddle  in  other 
folks'  business  ;  but  in  this  case  it's  both  my  right  and  my 
duty." 

Klaus  Baas,  sitting  on  his  office  stool,  raised  his  head 
proudly.  Then  he  suddenly  recalled  how  helpless  and 
discouraged  he  had  felt  only  three  hours  before,  as  they 
had  been  walking  along  the  sandy  road  in  the  wood.  He 
remembered  too  that  she  herself  had  called  in  her  brother 
as  counsellor. 

"  Go  on,  brother,"  he  said. 

"  Well,"  the  brother-in-law  said,  "  she's  written  me  the 
whole  story.  And  I've  questioned  her  about  it  here  for 
hours  at  a  time,  and  I've  talked  to  mother,  too.  So  I 
know  pretty  well  how  things  are.  Now,  as  far  as  you're 
concerned — well,  of  course  she's  spoken  about  you,  too, 
and  in  such  a  way  that  I  can  talk  to  you  plainly  and  with- 
out any  bad  feeling.     I've  been  studying  you  for  aeveraJ 


294  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

days,  too,  and  I  know  pretty  well  what  kind  of  a  fellow 
you  are.  Well,  I've  just  told  my  little  sister  what  seems 
to  me  to  be  the  only  thing  to  do  about  all  this  —  to  separate." 

Klaus  Baas  started  up,  thoroughly  shaken.  "  That  is 
awful  !  "  he  said  dully.  "  It's  dreadful.  Things  aren't 
as  bad  as  that." 

His  brother  nodded  his  big  head.     "I  spent  the  first 
twenty-five   years   of   my   life   here   at   home,"   he    said. 
"Thanks  to  these  sober  eyes  of  mine,  which  I  inherited 
from  my  mother's  mother,  I  at  least  came  to  know  us  all 
perfectly.     I  saw   my   father's  indiiference  and  his   per- 
sistent refusal  to  face  anything ;   I  saw  my  mother's  fan- 
tastic imagination,  which  in  my  oldest  sister  amounts  to 
disease  ;    I  knew  my  windbags  of  brothers,  and  my  frail 
little  flower  of  a  sister.     I  lived  among  them  like  a  crow 
among  doves,  cooing  and  flapping  their  wings.     Sometimes 
I  ran  along  with  them  —  a   funny  enough  spectacle  ;  and 
sometimes  I  pecked  at  everybody  around  me.     I  was  always 
the  slow,  surly  fellow  that  couldn't  fly  off  with  the  rest.     I 
was  suspicious.    In  short,  I  was  a  failure.    Well,  I  left  home. 
Then  you  came  into  the  family.     When  I  heard  of  the  en- 
gagement, I  thought,  '  Well,  now,  he's  probably  a  good 
tradesman  who  will  just  suit  her.'     But  you — you  aren't 
suited  to  her  at  all.     They've  got  a  hawk  now  instead  of  a 
crow,  and  that's  much  worse.     I  won't  tell  j^ou  everything 
my   little   sister   told    me   in    3-our    room    there   in   the 
twilight,  —  that  3'our  natures  are  entirely  different ;  that 
you   therefore  have  different  desires  and  opinions  ;  and 
that  now,  while  you  are  continually  interfering  with  one 
another,  neither  of  you  can  take  any  pleasure  in  working 
out  your  own  character  in  your  own  wa}^ — a  way  thoroughly 
justifiable  in  itself ;  the  result  is,  that  day  after  day  and 
hour  after  hour  3'ou  are  hindering  each  other  from  having 
the  little  portion  of  happiness  that  you  might  otherwise  have. 
To  all  this  kind  of  talk  from  the  wise  little  Philistine  you 
haven't  been  able  to  say  much  —  or  have  you  perhaps  ? 
You've  just  said,  in  a  general  way,  'It'll  be  all  right,  little 
girl.'     But   3^ou   don't   believe   that   yourself.     You   are 
tormented  when  you  look  forward  into  an  empty,  barren 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  295 

life  ;  and  she  is  in  torment  too  as  she  looks  forward  to  a 
restless,  worried  life,  full  of  reproaches.  Nothing  of  all 
this  is  going-  to  change.  In  twenty  years  you  will  still  be 
wanting  to  fly  high,  and  she  will  still  be  fluttering  along 
the  ground ;  and  you'll  still  be  saying  the  same  thing  — 
which  you  won't  believe  then,  any  more  than  you  do  now 
— '  It'll  be  all  right,  little  girl.'  " 

Klaus  Baas  took  a  deep  breath.  "  It  won't  be  as  bad 
as  that,"  he  said,  in  a  hollow  voice,  and  was  silent. 

His  brother  tried  to  settle  his  short  figure  more  comfort- 
ably on  his  stool,  finally  succeeded  in  his  efforts,  and  went 
on.  "  Up  there  in  our  woodyard,"  he  said,  "•  we  have  an 
old  workman  whose  wife  died  lately.  I  went  to  offer  my 
sympathy.  He  knew  perfectly  well  that  I'm  the  kind  of 
man  that  likes  to  know  how  things  really  are.  The  old 
fellow  gave  me  a  queer  look,  and  said,  '  Are  you  coming 
too  with  all  that  bosh  ?  '  '  Why,  why  is  it  bosh  ?  '  I  said. 
'  Haven't  you  always  lived  happily  with  the  old  woman  ? ' 
'  Our  married  life  was  like  a  lot  of  other  people's,'  he  said, 
in  a  sullen,  reflective  way.  '  How's  that?  '  I  said.  '  Well,' 
he  said,  '  we've  each  been  wishing  the  other  would  die  for 
thirty  years.'  I'm  a  practical  man,  Klaus  Baas,  and  am 
not  easily  scared.  But  I  tell  you  I  caught  my  breath  a 
minute  then.  I  looked  at  the  honest  old  fellow  in  amaze- 
ment. '  Oh,  we  were  quite  honorable  about  it,'  he  said. 
'  We  didn't  care  at  all  which  of  us  died,  just  so  one  of  us 
cleared  out  and  left  the  other  free  to  lead  his  own  life 
again.  Not  that  either  of  us  wanted  to  do  anything  very 
particular,  or  break  out  in  any  queer  way  —  it  was  just 
that  we  both  wanted  a  chance  to  pipe  our  own  tunes.  We 
weren't  suited  to  each  other  ;  we  were  in  each  other's  way.' 
'  Well,'  said  I,  '  why  in  God's  name  didn't  you  separate, 
thirty  years,  twenty  years,  ten,  even  one  year  ago  ?  Thirty 
years  like  that !  Oh,  my  Lord  !  '  '  Well,  when  a  man's 
young,'  he  said,  '  his  judgment's  uncertain  and  he's  always 
hoping  that  things  will  get  better.  And  besides,  at  that 
time,  divorce  was  an  unheard-of  thing.  And  then,  there 
were  the  children  —  and  our  relations,  and  acquaintances; 
and  we  saw  that  there  were  plenty  of  other  couples  living 


296  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

together  in  as  bad  a  fix  as  we  were.  It  dragged  along 
that  way,  and  we  came  to  take  a  kind  of  pleasure  in  suffer- 
ing unjustly,  and  in  hoping  for  one  or  the  other's  death. 
It  didn't  seem  worth  the  struggle  to  us.  Now  that  she's 
dead  things  are  pretty  quiet  —  and  perhaps  there's  some- 
thing lacking  here  and  there  —  but  I  can  live  now,  and 
say  and  think  what  I  feel  like.  I  smoked  all  evening 
yesterday;  she  never  would  have  let  me.'  The  old  man 
drew  the  back  of  his  hand  across  his  eyes  and  went  on 
working.  And  now,  see  here,  Klaus,  that  thing  isn't 
going  to  happen  to  you  two." 

Klaus  Baas  started  up  again.  "  Such  a  horrible  idea 
has  never  struck  me." 

The  brother  looked  up  at  him  long  and  soberl}^  "  Then 
you're  an  angel,"  he  said  dryly. 

Klaus  Baas  looked  steadily  down  at  the  desk  and  was 
silent. 

"  And  so  I  say,"  his  brother  went  on,  "  that  you  ought 
to  separate  now,  no  matter  how  hard  it  is.  Do  it,  so  that 
there  won't  be  two  worn,  fretted,  barren  lives,  but  two 
free,  complete  ones  —  even  if  they're  very  small.  That's 
the  way  1  feel  about  it." 

Klaus  Baas  couldn't  answer,  except  with  an  outcry  of  grief. 
"  No  man  ever  went  to  the  altar  with  a  purer,  more  ardent 
heart  than  I  did,"  he  said,  "  and  can  this  be  the  end  of  it !  " 

His  brother  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as  if  to  concede  that 
it  was  a  serious  business.  Then  in  his  deliberate  way  he 
went  on.  "  You  must  leave  her  the  child  for  always. 
Children  belong  to  the  mother,  not  the  father.  It  can 
visit  you,  of  course,  whenever  you  feel  that  you  want  it. 
You  would  leave  her  all  that  you've  earned  with  your  work 
in  her  father's  business  in  the  last  six  years.  Everything 
that  you've  earned  at  your  other  work,  especially  through 
the  bank  and  your  own  speculations,  must  remain  your 
own." 

Klaus  Baas  nodded.  "  Much  of  what  you've  been  say- 
ing is  true,"  he  said,  "  but  things  won't  reach  that  point,  at 
least  not  through  me.  In  spite  of  everything  else,  we  care 
too  much  about  each  other  for  that.     I  realize  that  my  life 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  297 

will  remain  narrow,  and  that  I'll  have  to  give  up  a  good 
many  joys,  but  I've  pledged  myself  to  her,  and  I'll  hold 
by  it.     Loyalty  is  more  than  life." 

His  brother  slowly  shrugged  his  broad  shoulders  again. 
"  Loyalty,  oh,  yes,"  he  said.  "  Pledged,  are  you  ?  She 
Vv'as  twenty-three  then,  and  you  were  twenty-six.  Neither 
of  you  really  knew  yourself  then.  And  you  didn't  either 
of  you  take  the  trouble  to  say,  'Prove  each  other  a  little  — 
you  may  live  together  for  forty  years.  And  forty  years 
is  no  trifle.'  Well,  let  that  go.  You're  pledged,  you  say. 
Well,  pledged  to  what  ?  To  keep  each  other  back,  or  to 
help  each  other  along  ?  To  raise,  or  to  drag  down  each 
other  ?  When  you  were  a  young  fellow  were  you  irritable 
and  worried,  and  did  you  have  those  wrinkles  between 
your  eyebrows  ?  Why  is  it  you  are  all  these  things  now  ? 
And  when  you  first  met  my  little  sister,  was  she  weepy, 
and  uncertain,  and  moody  ?  Why  is  she  so  now  ?  Because 
each  of  you  is  outraged  by  the  other.  Both  your  natures 
suffer  constantly.  Such  a  life  together  is  not  loyalty.  It's 
just  the  opposite.  Isn't  it  meant  that  every  human  being 
should  develop  his  own  character  and  bring  it  to  fulfil- 
ment, and  so  be  a  joy  and  blessing  to  others  ?  " 

Then  he  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  brow  with  his  big 
red  handkerchief,  and  left  the  room. 

The  next  morning  Klaus  Baas  took  leave  of  him  and 
went  as  usual  to  the  weekly  meeting  at  the  bank. 

Toward  evening,  as  he  was  hurrying  home  from  the 
station,  thinking  that  he  would  chat  with  her  cheerily  that 
evening,  he  saw  his  father-in-law  standing  at  the  gate  of 
the  woodyard  with  a  bitter,  angry  look  on  his  face.  He 
handed  Klaus  a  letter,  then  turned  around,  and  crossed  the 
woodyard  to  his  house.  Standing  at  the  gate,  Klaus  opened 
the  letter  and  read  it.  Martje  Ruhland  wrote  to  him 
that  she  had  gone  to  Kiel  with  her  brother  and  the  baby 
—  she  was  sure  that  she  was  doing  the  right  thing,  she  said, 
for  she  was  now  on  the  track  of  the  peace  she  had  been 
deprived  of  for  so  long  —  even  if  it  were  almost  the  peace 
of  the  grave.  She  hoped  her  "  dear  Klaus  Baas  "  would 
think  kindly  of  her. 


298  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

For  fourteen  days  Klaus  Baas  sat  in  one  or  the  other  of 
the  two  offices  at  the  woodyard,  introducing  his  successors 
to  their  work.  For  as  every  well  regulated  man  would 
have  done,  he  got  two  successors,  one  for  the  wood  busi- 
ness and  the  other  for  the  bank.  He  worked  from  early 
in  the  morning  till  late  at  night,  instructing  them  in  every 
possible  detail.  Once  in  a  while  his  thoughts  left  his  work, 
and  he  faced  anew  the  incredible  situation  —  his  marriage 

—  his  marriage  broken  off  !  Constantly,  with  silent  per- 
sistence, he  thought  of  a  reconciliation.  When  he  was 
settled  in  Hamburg,  where  he  would  probably  go  to  rep- 
resent the  bank,  he  certainly  would  write  to  her,  "Now 
come  to  me  again  —  we  must  and  we  will  try  it  once  more. " 
She  would  come,  and  all  would  be  well. 

After  all,  it  was  quite  for  the  best.  He  took  leave  with 
ti3ars  of  the  room,  with  all  its  little  trinkets  and  her  two 
lace-pillows.  Then  he  walked  to  the  harbor.  He  wanted 
to  go  to  Hamburg  in  a  roundabout  way  so  that  he  might 
have  time  to  collect  himself  a  little.     For  although  Klaus 

CD 

Baas  was  alert  and  high-spirited  enough,  he  considered 
reflection  of  this  sort  right  and  fitting  after  all  the  experi- 
ence he  had  just  passed  through. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  went  to  the  dike.  It  was  a  fresh, 
windy  spring  day  ;  the  sky  was  blue,  with  big  white  and 
gray  clouds.  For  a  while  he  gazed  far  out  over  the  peace- 
ful sea  lying  like  a  silver  shield.  Then  he  turned  slowly 
around  to  look  over  toward  the  beautiful  city,  stretched 
out  on  the  level  fields,  with  its  groups  of  high  lindens,  its 
many  red  gable  roofs,  and  the  great  church  in  the  middle. 
Klaus  had  been  there  several  times  on  the  family's  account 

—  not  at  all,  however,  of  late  years,  since  he  had  with- 
drawn somewhat  from  the  family.  For  a  long  time  now 
lie  had  concerned  himself  but  little  about  God.  Now  he 
was  at  last  quite  done  with  "  the  stupid  idealism  of  youth." 
It  had  duped  him  utterly,  and  it  was  because  it  had  that 
he  was  going  away  so  lonely  now.  But  now  at  last  his 
feet  were  on  firm  ground.  He  was  determined  to  go  on 
his  way  now  quite  soberly  and  clearly,  thinking  only  of 
himself,  taking  hold  again  with  fresh  firm  hands,  concern- 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  299 

ing  himself  as  little  as  possible  about  God  and  man.  And 
it  was  time,  too,  if  he  was  still  going  to  make  something 
out  of  his  life. 

He  wandered  along  through  the  country,  between  the 
fields,  lying  broad  and  beautiful  in  the  evening  light,  and 
the  great  quiet  sea.  The  rays  of  the  sun  shone  round  him, 
and  the  brisk  wind  blew  into  his  face,  now  and  then  bring- 
ing with  it  a  sprinkle  of  spring  shower.  The  sky  was  cov- 
ered with  many  bright  and  dark  clouds,  which  the  fresh 
wind  chased  to  and  fro,  mingled,  drove  apart,  and  finally 
quite  drove  away. 

When  the  sun  had  gone  down  and  all  its  colors  had  faded, 
Klaus  drew  near  the  little  place  that  his  brother  Peter  had 
bought  a  short  time  before.  After  his  marriage,  Peter  had 
followed  in  his  father's  footsteps  and  had  been  shepherd  for 
other  people's  herds  for  years  along  the  vast  green  dike. 
Now  he  had  his  own  flock  on  the  little  place  he  had  bought, 
and  on  the  ground  in  front  of  it,  which  he  had  leased.  The 
house,  which  was  quite  close  to  the  dike,  was  old  and  low, 
with  a  thatched  and  shingled  roof  in  a  rather  bad  state. 
The  flocks  were  grazing  out  around  the  land.  In  the  mist, 
which  had  fallen  like  a  heavy  veil  over  the  darkening  land, 
Klaus  couldn't  see  the  flocks  at  all,  but  the  form  of  the  boy 
that  was  tending  them  loomed  through  the  mist,  and  Klaus 
could  hear  him  calling  his  dog. 

Trina  Mewing,  who  had  once  tied  the  purse  so  tightly 
into  the  mattress,  was  sitting,  at  supper  in  the  fast  dark- 
ening room  with  her  four  children.  In  spite  of  the  dark, 
she  recognized  her  guest  at  once,  although  she  hadn't  seen 
him  very  often.  She  wiped  off  a  chair  with  her  blue  linen 
apron,  asked  him  to  sit  down,  and  sent  the  children  after 
their  father.  Wlien  the  guest  was  comfortably  seated,  she 
went  out  to  get  some  bread  and  milk  for  him. 

To  pass  the  time,  Klaus  took  up  one  of  the  children's 
copybooks  and  tried  to  read  it.  "  You'd  better  go  over  to 
the  window,"  cried  an  old  voice  from  the  bed  in  the  wall. 
"  It  gets  dark  so  early  now,  and  writing  isn't  easy  to  read 
anyway." 

He  walked  over  to  the  bed,  where  he  saw  indistinctly 


300  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

an  old  woman's  wrinkled  face.  "  Who  is  it  lying  there  ?  " 
he  asked.     "  Trina  Mewing's  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  I'm  Trina's  mother. 
They've  taken  me  to  live  with  them,  because  I  really  can't 
do  for  myself  any  more ;  I'm  almost  eighty." 

"  Well,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  heartily,  "  are  you  pretty  com- 
fortable here,  grandmother  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  woman  ;  "  your  brother's  very  good 
to  an  old  woman  like  me.  I  wouldn't  be  telling  the  truth 
if  I  said  anything  else.  He's  a  shrev/d  fellow,  it's  true, 
but  he  isn't  a  bad  one." 

"I  suppose  you're  sick,  grandmother,  since  you're  in 
bed?" 

"No,"  said  the  old  woman,  "not  a  bit  of  it.  I  tell 
you,  Peter's  a  shrewd  fellow.  He  uses  folks  for  what 
they're  good  for.  I  don't  say  anything  more  than  that. 
I  wouldn't  be  telling  the  truth  if  I  said  he  was  a  bad 
one." 

"  Well,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  "  people  aren't  all  alike.  He 
gets  that  from  his  mother,"  he  said  louder.  "  She's  shrewd, 
too."     Then  he  sat  down  by  the  window. 

Soon  Peter  came  home  from  the  dike.  He  walked 
heavily  into  the  room,  shook  hands  with  his  brother,  threw 
his  cap  on  the  chest,  ran  his  left  hand  through  his  hair, 
and  brushed  off  his  coat  with  his  right  —  all  out  of  respect 
for  his  brother.  Then  he  told  his  little  boy  to  fill  his 
short  pipe,  and  began  in  his  usual  way  to  tell  about  all 
the  troubles  he  had  been  having  lately  :  the  moving  had 
cost  more  than  he  had  expected  ;  the  goslings  had  died; 
and  sometimes  he  had  been  short  of  breath  lately  — 
something  quite  new  for  him.  He  certainly  was  having 
pretty  hard  lines  just  now. 

Meanwhile,  with  his  pipe  cheerfully  lighted  and  his 
legs  crossed,  he  was  leaning  back,  taking  good  puffs,  and 
apparently  feeling  quite  comfortable.  In  a  loud,  cheery 
voice  he  told  how  he  had  sent  part  of  his  furniture  over  by 
sea  by  some  fishermen.  "And  now  just  think  of  this," 
he  said  ;  "  when  Karl  Liiders  comes  in  with  his  wherry 
and  tries  to  land  in  Priel,  what  comes  to  meet  him  but 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  301 

the  damned  revenue  cutter.  He  was  coming  from  outside 
the  country,  they  said,  and  would  have  to  pay  duty  and  a 
fine  and  heaven  knows  what  all.  Well,  then,  what  did 
Karl  Liiders  do  ?  He  gets  worried  and  turns  straight 
around  and  goes  out  of  the  customs  limits  again.  And 
there  he  anchors  near  Dicksander  Gatt  with  our  furniture 
and  our  potatoes  and  oar  old  grandmother,  who  was  on 
board  too,  and  fishes  for  turbot.  Well,  naturally,  my  wife 
doesn't  give  me  any  peace  —  although  I  don't  generally 
concern  myself  much  about  the  women's  cackling.  So  I 
put  on  my  boots  and  I  go  over  to  the  customs  superintend- 
ent at  Itzehoe  and  tell  him  my  troubles  and  tell  him  to 
send  out  the  revenue  cutter  again  to  bring  back  Karl 
Liiders  and  his  boat,  dead  or  alive.  But  when  I  get  home 
that  evening,  he's  there  already,  anchored  in  Priel.  The 
old  woman  hadn't  had  anything  to  eat  but  turbot  — 
turbot  every  day,  and  she  had  struck.  That's  pretty  hard 
lines,  isn't  it  ?  .  .  .  Well,  now,  how  are  things  going  with 
you  ?  " 

"  Well,"  drawled  Klaus,  speaking  rather  louder  than 
was  necessary,  "I've  decided  that  I  don't  want  to  work 
along  with  the  old  man  any  longer.  In  the  long  run  it 
isn't  best.  And  it  isn't  good  for  my  wife,  either.  I'm 
going  to  Hamburg  to  represent  the  bank  there,  or  to  find 
something  else." 

Peter  liaas  shifted  his  pipe  a  little,  and  said  with  a  sly 
look,  "  Something  wrong  there  !  I  take  it  for  granted," 
he  said  suspiciously,  "  that  your  wife's  entirely  on  your 
Bide  ?  " 

Klaus  Baas  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  A  wife's  a  human 
being,"  he  said,  "and  has  a  nature  of  her  own." 

Peter,  thoroughly  puzzled,  Avas  silent  for  a  moment. 

"A  wife's  a  human  being?"  he  drawled,  "  Well,  yes 
—  but  when  we're  talking  about  a  man  we  say  he,  and 
about  a  woman,  it  ;  there  are  different  kinds  of  human 
beings,  brother.  She  hasn't  a  nature  of  her  own,  brother. 
Now  I,  as  the  man,"  pointing  the  end  of  his  pipe  at  his 
breast,  "  I  have  the  nature,  and  the  woman,  she  has  my 
nature,  see  ?  All  the  women  in  the  house  —  it  doesn't  matter 


302  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

if  there  are  thirteen  of  them  —  have  got  to  obey  on  the 
minute.     Otherwise,  how  can  there  be  any  order  ?  " 

While  Peter  Baas  was  still  pointing  his  pipe  at  his 
breast,  the  old  woman's  voice  was  heard  from  the  bed  — 
"  I've  told  your  brother  already  that  you're  a  pretty 
shrewd  one." 

Peter  Baas  slowly  turned  the  end  of  his  pipe  toward 
the  bed,  as  he  said  to  his  brother,  "  Day  before  yesterda}^ 
one  of  the  geese  left  her  eggs  too  soon.  So  I've  put  the 
old  woman  to  bed  to  hatch  them  out.  What  else  is  she 
here  for  ?  Everybody's  got  to  help  along.  A  man's  got 
to  have  the  say-so,  brother.  If  you've  got  a  sensible  wife, 
you  can  sometimes  let  her  have  her  own  way,  but  it's 
really  always  your  way.  Do  you  have  a  bad  time  of  it 
here,  old  lady  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  old  woman,  out  of  the  darkness.  "  I  am 
very  comfortable  here,  and  what  you  say  is  all  right. 
But  you're  a  shrewd  one." 

After  this  point  had  been  disposed  of,  Peter  Baas  lighted 
his  pipe,  which  had  gone  out,  and  sent  his  wife  and 
children,  who  had  been  sitting  by  silentl}^  to  bed.  Then 
he  talked  to  his  brother  for  a  while  in  the  dark,  his  pipe 
now  and  then  sending  up  a  glow  that  lighted  up  the  room 
and  the  bed  in  the  wall.  They  talked  about  the  boys  they 
used  to  play  with  in  the  churchyard.  Peter  Baas  knew 
them  all  still  and  had  something  to  tell  about  many  of 
them.  As  for  Klaus,  Hamburg  and  the  Indian  sun  had 
made  him  quite  forget  and  lose  his  interest  in  those  far- 
off  days.  They  talked  also  about  their  father,  and  about 
strong,  pretty  Lotte  ;  about  how  bravely  their  mother 
had  put  things  through,  and  about  the  four  younger 
ones,  who  were  grown  up  too,  now,  but  were  still  living 
with  their  mother.  Hanna  was  a  teacher  ;  Fritz  was  a 
locksmith  ;  and  their  mother  was  still  supporting  little 
Johann,  who  was  an  apprentice  in  an  oihce,  and  little 
Lotte.  When  they  had  talked  things  over  for  a  long 
time  in  seriously  brotherly  fashion,  Peter  Baas  grew 
weary.  He  became  quieter,  and  as  the  pipe  glowed  more 
faintly,  his  eyes  looked  little  and  blinking.     Klaus  Baas 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  303 

got  up  to  go.  But  he  curae  so  seldom  that  he  had  to 
inspect  the  rooms  carefully.  He  stumbled  along  behind 
the  smoky  lantern,  past  the  beds  of  Peter's  wife  and 
children,  then  past  the  two  cows  and  the  pigs,  through  the 
kitchen  to  the  yard,  and  out  on  the  road. 

Half  an  hour  later,  as  he  lay  in  bed  in  the  inn  high  up  on 
the  dike,  he  went  back  to  his  own  affairs  again.  Suppose 
Martje  Ruhland  had  always  done  his  will  silently  and 
gladly.  What  would  Peter  have  made  of  the  little  woman? 
He  would  have  beaten  her,  and  then  she  would  have  run 
away  to  her  mother.  Of  course  !  Oh,  the  poor  little 
creature,  who  had  run  awav  from  him!  He  wondered  if 
she  were  lying  in  bed  as  peacefully  as  he  was,  so  pleasantly 
tired  after  a  full  day.  She  had  probably  cried  a  great 
deal  that  day,  and  was  lying  now  more  quietly  than  he 
was.  She  was  naturally  so  quiet,  so  satisfied  to  fall 
asleep  in  her  little  circle.  He  had  been  the  daily  disturb- 
ing element  of  her  life,  he  with  his  pondering,  his  desire 
to  be  doing  something,  his  planning,  his  opinions  —  in 
short,  with  his  devouring  passion  for  men  and  things.  If 
only  he  had  not  disturbed  her  then,  six  years  ago! 
Probably  it  would  be  better  for  them  to  remain  apart.  It 
was  remarkable  how  this  one  day  of  peaceful  wandering 
and  quiet  reflection  had  drawn  him  out  of  his  trouble,  so 
that  he  could  look  upon  it  more  calmly  and  from  a  greater 
distance.  But  he  was  too  tired  to  meditate  on  it  to- 
night. How  very  tired  he  was !  And  how  far  he  had 
walked  —  how  wide  the  land  and  sea  had  seemed,  and  how 
high  the  sky !  He  closed  his  eyes  peacefullv,  and  soon 
saw  nothing  at  all  but  the  soft  quiet  glow  of  his  brother's 
pipe  as  he  droned  along  about  the  right  way  to  treat 
women — and  then  Klaus  knew  nothing  more. 

The  next  morning  he  went  on,  this  time  inland.  He 
walked  along,  now  on  broad  roads,  now  on  narrow  paths, 
on  which  the  sun  had  already  dried  the  sand,  through 
wide,  quiet,  slightly  rolling  country,  past  little  farm 
thickets  and  past  lonely  farm-yards  ;  about  every  half  hour 
he  passed  a  village.  In  front  of  many  of  the  houses, 
enticed  out  by  the  air   of    early  spring,    stood  a   young 


304  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

woman  with  a  child  in  her  arms,  another  tugging  at  her 
apron,  and  the  rest  playing  around  her.  They  all  greeted 
the  vigorous  traveller,  sometimes  a  little  shylj^  sometimes 
with  simple  friendliness,  sometimes  half  smilingly. 
When  any  of  the  women  particularly  pleased  him,  he 
asked  her  to  direct  him  to  the  nearest  church  village. 
And  if  she  answered  him  cordially,  he  stopped  for  a  while 
to  ask  how  old  the  children  were  and  how  many  of  them 
went  to  school.  And  he  was  amazed  at  himself  for  being 
in  such  good  spirits,  considering  his  situation. 

He  walked  all  that  day.  With  every  step  he  became 
calmer  and  more  free,  while  the  people  and  the  things  he 
was  leaving  became  stranger  and  farther  away.  The  air 
was  clear,  full  of  a  soft  and  lovely  light,  and  the  wind  had 
died  down.  Everywhere,  to  the  far  horizon,  there  was 
nothing  but  a  great  silence  and  a  glorious  peace.  The 
trees,  as  he  passed  them,  seemed  to  have  fallen  into  silence, 
and  men  and  beasts  went  on  their  way  in  the  fields  in 
blissful  calm.  Toward  evening,  tired  out  and  lost  in 
soft  dreams,  he  reached  a  large  village. 

He  sauntered  along  the  main  street,  in  which  the 
twilight  was  already  weaving  its  wan  bluish  gray  mists. 
From  the  old  churchyard,  with  its  uneven  turf,  the  sexton, 
with  his  big  shiny  key  in  his  hand,  was  just  coming  from 
ringing  the  evening  bell.  Three  or  four  children  were 
sitting  on  a  big  stone  on  the  grass  with  their  Bibles  on 
their  laps,  studying:  "  For  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he 
gave  His  only  begotten  Son."  The  crows  chimed  in  from 
the  tall  trees.  The  bell  on  a  shop  door  rang,  and  the 
door  opened  and  shut ;  children  and  women  were  going 
along  silently,  carrying  their  purchases.  A  little  boy  of 
eight  or  nine,  walking  along  with  an  old  man,  was  telling 
him  excitedly  what  had  happened  to  him.  It  seemed  that 
he  had  been  sent  into  the  next  town,  and  had  stayed 
too  long,  so  his  grandfather  had  gone  to  meet  him.  The 
bright  little  voice  could  be  heard  at  some  distance  : 
"  Grandfather,  have  you  ever  seen  a  dead  man  ?  "  The 
old  man's  voice  was  not  so  distinct:  "  Yes,  my  boy,  a 
whole  heap  of  them  at  once  —  I  was  in  a    battle."      A 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  305 

farm-yard  lay  broad  and  dark  in  the  shadow  of  its  trees  ;  in 
the  wide  open  doorway  a  dim  light  shone,  like  a  mourn- 
ful little  star  in  the  great  night.  The  servant  was  filling 
the  trough  with  fodder  ;  Klaus  heard  the  lid  Happing  down, 
the  animals  knocking  against  the  stalls,  and  the  chains 
clanking.  A  tall  stately  woman,  still  young,  was  walking 
along  slowly  and  with  difficulty,  carrying  two  brass-bound 
pails  of  milk  from  a  yoke  around  her  neck ;  the  milk 
gleamed  white  as  snow  in  the  twilight.  As  she  passed  him, 
she  raised  her  head  cautiously  to  look  at  the  stranger,  and 
greeted  him.  In  the  open  smithy  the  smith  was  standing 
in  the  firelight  behind  the  glowing  metal  and  the  shining 
iron,  letting  his  hammer  play  on.  the  anvil  with  a  noise 
that  sounded  through  the  village.  His  boy,  in  his  leather 
apron,  was  crouching  timidly  beside  him  on  his  knees,  hold- 
ing the  rod.  The  schoolhouse  by  the  brook  stood  silent 
and  deserted,  as  if  it  needed  to  rest  earlier  than  the  other 
houses  from  its  noisy  day's  work. 

Klaus  came  upon  a  little  byway  leading  behind  the 
houses.  Following  it,  he  passed  some  smaller  thatched 
houses  in  which  the  mother  was  standing  at  the  hearth  in 
front  of  the  sputtering  kettle  of  beans  ;  in  one  house  grown 
children  were  standing  talking  sensibly  to  her  ;  in  another 
little  ones  were  tugging  at  her  apron-strings,  trying  to  see 
into  the  kettle.  From  the  field  came  the  clanging  of  iron  ; 
a  colt  was  trying  a  little  trot,  in  spite  of  the  chain  on  its 
leg ;  then  it  even  broke  into  -a  gallop.  Its  firm  leaps  on 
the  hard  ground  could  be  plainly  heard. 

Klaus  came  out  again  upon  the  broad  main  street,  where 
he  found  an  inn.  Then  he  awakened  from  his  silent  mus- 
ing, pulled  himself  together,  and  went  in. 

He  found  a  clean  room,  with  a  writing  table  ;  and  he 
wrote  straightwa}'  to  little  Martje  Ruhland  that  he  had 
carefully  thought  it  all  over,  and  now  it  seemed  right  to 
him  that  they  should  separate  "  so  that  both  of  us  may  be- 
come, according  to  our  gifts,  whatever  it  lies  in  us  to  be." 


CHAPTER   XIX 

The  next  morning  found  him  walking  along  broad  old 
roads,  through  a  great  stretch  of  barren  country.  He 
lunched  at  a  quiet  village  tavern.  About  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon,  as  he  was  walking  along  a  broad  road  lead- 
ing to  a  larger  town,  he  reached  a  wood.  He  could  see 
handsome  leafy  trees  covering  fine  rolling  slopes,  and  a 
pretty  stream  of  water  flowing  through  it.  At  a  turn  in 
the  road  a  few  feet  in  front  of  the  wood  was  a  camp 
wagon,  standing  under  the  tall  overhanging  bushes  by  the 
roadside,  bright  in  their  spring  foliage.  Around  it  stood 
several  village  people  from  the  neighborhood  in  evident 
excitement.  On  the  little  steps  leading  from  the  wagon 
to  the  ground  a  little  man  about  forty  years  old  was  sitting 
motionless.  His  hands  were  clasped  between  his  knees 
and  his  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears. 

Klaus  Baas  stood  still,  not  knowing  what  to  make  of 
the  scene.  Then  one  of  the  townsfolk  came  up  and  told 
him  in  a  low  voice  what  the  trouble  was.  About  ten 
years  before  this,  it  seems,  two  small  storekeepers  from 
the  most  crowded  section  of  Hamburg  had  found  this 
wood  while  they  were  off  on  a  trip  about  Eastertime. 
They  were  both  very  fond  of  out-of-door  life,  and  they 
had  enjoyed  the  beauty  of  this  wood  so  much  that  since 
then  they  had  come  back  at  this  time  every  year.  After 
the  sordid  winter  months  in  Hamburg,  they  came  back  to 
the  wood  to  celebrate  the  coming  of  spring  ;  and  they 
came  during  the  summer  as  often  as  they  could  get  away 
from  business.  They  used  the  wagon  as  a  house,  and  lived 
along  in  this  way  without  being  disturbed  by  the  com- 
munity tluit  owned  the  land.  Indeed,  the  people  around 
there  had  a  good  deal  of  amusement  over  the  two  modest, 

.306 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  307 

quietly  happy  men.  During  the  last  year,  however,  they 
had  been  bothered  by  the  police  because  of  a  law  forbid- 
ding living  in  wagons.  At  noon  that  very  day  they  had 
received  orders  to  take  theirs  away.  One  of  them  had 
gone  to  town  to  get  a  pair  of  horses,  and  while  his  friend 
was  gone  the  other,  a  quiet,  simple  fellow,  whose  sole  joy 
in  life  consisted  in  this  modest  vacation,  had  committed 
suicide  in  the  wagon. 

Just  as  the  man  had  finished  his  story,  Klaus  spied, 
coming  down  from  the  field  side  of  the  road,  a  rather  tall 
young  girl.  She  had  on  a  loose  jacket  and  a  short,  com- 
fortable skirt,  and  she  walked  briskly,  with  an  energetic 
swing  of  her  shoulders.  To  his  surprise,  he  recognized 
the  goldsmith  whom  he  had  met  on  the  Schleswig  road 
three  years  before.  He  felt  glad  to  see  her,  and  stepped 
back  a  little.  In  her  clear,  composed  way,  she  looked  at 
the  pitiful  little  man  on  the  steps.  Even  before  she 
reached  him  she  began  to  shake  her  yellow  head  sorrow- 
fully, and  say,  "  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  !  so  sorry  !  "  She 
shook  the  little  man's  hand.  Then  turning  to  the  people, 
she  broke  out  with  heart-felt  reproaches.  "  They  didn't 
disturb  anybody  —  weren't  in  anybody's  way.  Every- 
body has  his  own  idea  of  what  he  likes.  Heaven  help  us 
if  a  man  can't  think  and  live  the  way  he  wants  to  !  " 
Just  then  she  looked  up  and  saw  the  stranger  from  town. 
She  started,  recognized  him,  and  then,  with  a  look  of 
pleased  surprise,  held  out  her  Jiand  and  asked  him  where 
he  was  going. 

He  pointed  out  the  direction  in  which  he  was  going,  and 
walked  along  the  road  with  her.  It  was  a  very  wide  road, 
overgrown  with  heather,  and  one  could  walk  along  it  with 
tolerable  comfort  only  in  the  two  wagon  tracks.  Each  of 
them  took  a  rut,  and  in  this  way  each  had  a  fine  chance  to 
scan  the  other  from  head  to  foot,  an  opportunity  they  used 
to  the  utmost. 

She  asked  him  about  his  sick  sister-in-law.  He  told  her 
briefly  that  he  had  left  the  place,  and  his  married  life  as 
well,  and  was  now  on  his  way  to  Hamburg.  She  listened 
to  his  story  with  friendly  interest,  asking  all  sorts  of  sen- 


308  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

sible  questions.  Now  that  he  was  free  and  single,  she 
treated  him  exactly  as  she  had  treated  him  three  years  be- 
fore when  he  was  tied.  Pleased  at  meeting  her,  he  blessed 
the  luck  that  allowed  him  to  see  the  fine,  rare  creature 
again.  Looking  at  her  saucily,  he  asked  her  to  tell  him 
now  who  and  what  she  was. 

She  only  laughed  at  him.  "  Come  in  to  the  village," 
she  said,  "  and  have  supper  with  us,  —  that  is,  with  me  and 
my  aunt,  whom  you  remember  having  seen  on  your  trip  to 
Schleswig.  Then  she  can  tell  you  who  and  what  we  are. 
I  have  to  do  it  so  often  that  I  don't  like  to  any  more.  I 
just  say,  '  My  name's  Doris  Rotermund,  and  1  live  with 
my  aunt.'  She  has  sold  out  her  business.  I  say  frankly 
that  I'd  rather  live  with  a  man  — but  none  has  turned  up 
as  yet."  She  gave  him  a  quick  side  glance,  laughed 
cockily,  and  went  on  a  little  faster  :  "  I  found  out  your 
name  from  the  coachman  that  time.  And  I  thought,  well, 
the  boys  must  certainly  have  had  a  lot  of  fun  with  him 
about  it.  They  must  have  said  things  like,  '  You're  a  boss 
all  right,'  or  '  Klaus,  you  certainly  are  a  boss,'  or,  '  Your 
name's  boss  and  master,  and  you  are  such  a  dunce  '  —  or 
something  of  that  kind."  She  looked  at  him  gayly,  her 
slight  confusion  quite  forgotten.  Pointing  to  the  brook, 
she  said,  "  See  how  it  flows.  It  leaps  and  chatters  that 
way  all  along.  The  pebbles  must  hurt  its  feet.  I  had 
just  got  my  shoes  on  again  when  I  heard  the  outcry  there 
by  the  wagon.  Now  we'll  just  go  a  little  way  around  to 
see  if  we  can  find  an  old  man  that  lives  there  at  the  cor- 
ner.    I  go  this  way  once  in  a  while  to  see  him." 

They  walked  along  a  narrow  shaded  road  which  rounded 
in  a  handsome  curve  past  an  old  low  house  in  the  wood, 
sheltered  by  great  poplars,  whose  gray,  gleaming  leaves 
were  upturned  by  the  fresh  west  wind. 

On  the  white  bench  before  the  ivy-covered  wall  sat  a 
fine-looking  man  of  about  sixty  years.  He  still  looked 
energetic,  and  his  white  hair  and  beard  were  neatly 
clipped.  He  looked  up  and  nodded  his  white  head  in 
welcome.  She  went  up  to  him  in  her  fine,  easy  way,  say- 
ing as  she  went :  "  Don't  you  want  to  give  my  friend  one 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  309 

of  your  canes  ?  I  can't  bear  to  see  a  tall  man  like  him  use 
such  a  slender  cane.  One  of  yours  would  suit  him 
better." 

The  old  man  had  already  got  up  and  gone  into  the 
house.  He  came  back  with  a  dozen  fine  oak  staffs  which 
he  laid  on  the  table.  Then  he  sat  down  again  and  asked 
his  visitors  to  take  seats.  "  Take  your  choice,"  he  said 
pleasantly  to  Klaus.  "  For  twenty  years  I've  been  cutting 
these  oak  staffs  when  I've  been  out  walking.  Then  I 
straighten  them  in  hot  water  and  smooth  them  off  and 
give  myself  the  pleasure  of  making  presents  of  them. 
I've  given  away  over  a  thousand.  Many  a  man  I've  never 
seen  before  has  come  to  my  house  and  got  one  of  my 
sticks.  In  that  way  I  get  many  a  moment  of  talk,  hear  all 
kinds  of  news  around  the  country,  and  am  doing  a  good 
deed  besides  ;  for  those  canes  are  strong  and  handy." 

The  girl,  sitting  with  her  chin  resting  on  her  hand  and 
her  legs  crossed,  looked  on  with  interest  as  Klaus  tried 
the  canes.  "  The  main  thing  in  this  case,"  she  said  casu- 
ally, "  is  that  it's  a  good  deed.  Almost  a  thousand  good 
deeds,  —  think  of  it!  Now  if  you  had  committed  a  great 
many  sins,  some  of  them  would  be  absolved  already.  Of 
course,  if  they  had  been  great  big  sins,  giving  away  canes 
wouldn't  help  much." 

The  old  man  laughed  and  gave  her  a  teasing  side  glance 
as  she  sat  there  looking  steadily  at  the  canes.  "  You  can 
never  give  up  your  little  joke  about  my  sins,"  he  said.  "  I'd 
rather  like  to  know  how  many  sins  you've  got  behind  you. 
You're  not  any  saint,  either,  let  me  tell  you." 

She  tapped  her  foot,  and  answered  good-humoredly,  "  I'm 
just  twenty-two,  and  I've  sinned  just  five  times  —  the  same 
sin  every  time." 

He  laughed  his  pleasant  cheery  laugh  again.  "  I  won- 
der," he  said,  "  what  kind  of  a  sin  it  can  be  to  make  you 
have  such  a  contented,  happy  look  while  you're  thinking 
about  it." 

"  In  my  opinion,"  she  answered  defiantly,  "they  aren't 
sins  at  all.  Society  just  calls  them  sins.  But  they  aren't 
among  the  ten  commandments,  anyway." 


310  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

"  Well!  "  said  the  old  man,  witli  a  smile.  "  But  perhaps 
it's  a  kind  of  addition  to  one  of  the  ten  commandments. 
Shall  I  guess  ?  " 

She  blushed.  "  You  needn't  think  I'm  going  to  display 
my  sins  in  the  market-place  like  other  folks,"  she  said. 
She  was  silent  again,  but  realizing  that  she  was  blushing 
more  and  more,  she  got  up  quickly.  "  Have  j^ou  got  the 
one  you  want  ?  "  she  said  to  Klaus  Baas.  She  straightway 
shook  hands  with  the  old  man,  straightened  out  her  skirts, 
and  started  slowly  off. 

The  old  man  looked  laughingly  after  her  with  his  oddly 
young  eyes.  And  as  Klaus  Baas  was  shaking  hands  with 
him  and  thanking  him  for  the  cane,  he  said,  "  Full-blooded 
natures  like  hers  usually  have  an  element  of  unrestraint, 
but  she's  clever  and  good  with  it  all  —  and  she  knows 
what  she  wants." 

When  they  were  out  of  the  old  man's  hearing,  Klaus 
Baas  asked  what  all  that  joking  meant  —  what  sins  had 
the  old  man  committed  ?  She  looked  at  him  with  a  glint 
of  embarrassment  in  her  handsome  eyes.  "  Oh,"  she  an- 
swered, "  the  old  man's  been  pretty  fond  of  women  all  his 
life.  He  lived  with  three  pretty  women,  one  after  the 
other,  in  that  house  —  in  fact,  I  knew  the  last  one  —  and 
he  wasn't  married  to  any  one  of  them." 

He  looked  at  her  closely.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  he 
asked,  "  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  tease  him  about  that, 
and  don't  blame  him  or  avoid  him  for  it  ?  " 

She  looked  good-humoredly  into  the  distance  and  an- 
swered :  "  Everybody  in  these  parts  says  that  he  has  al- 
ways been  a  good,  reliable,  charitable  man.  He  still  shows 
it  in  the  way  he  makes  those  canes  and  gives  them  away. 
And  they  say  he  treated  the  women  decently  and  that 
they  left  him  peaceably.  Well — you  see,  I  like  that.  And 
I  like  him,  too."  She  nodded  her  head  as  if  to  say,  "You 
see,  that's  the  kind  I  am." 

He  looked  steadily  at  her  and  waited  till  she  had  finished. 
Then  he  said  quickly,  "  And  what  are  the  sins  that  you 
have  committed?" 

She  laughed  curtly,  gave  him  a  quick  look,  and  then, 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  311 

looking  across  the  field,  said  witli  a  smile,  "  I  don't  call 
them  sins.     I  haven't  really  sinned  at  all." 

"  Never  committed  a  single  sin  ?  "  he  asked  in  astonish- 
ment. 

She  looked  directly  at  him,  and  answered  decidedly, 
"  No,  I  wouldn't  know  how  to.  The  things  I  look  on  as 
sins  are  the  things  I  don't  do.  I've  never  betrayed  any 
one  that  trusted  me  ;  I've  never  idled  away  my  time;  I've 
never  thought  or  said  vulgar  things;  I've  never  let  my 
body  or  my  clothes  or  the  gold  I  work  with  get  dirty  or 
out  of  shape;  I've  never  had  or  shown  any  ugly  feeling. 
And  I've  never  done  anything  else  that's  a  sin.  I  think 
far  too  much  of  God  and  myself  for  that."  She  stopped, 
and  looked  with  wide  clear  eyes  over  the  darkening  land- 
scape. 

He  tried  to  tease  her  and  find  out  more  about  it.  "  But 
I  want  to  know,"  he  said,  "  what  the  so-called  sins  that 
you've  committed  are  !  " 

"•  I  won't  tell,"  she  said,  laughing  gayly. 

He  looked  grave.  "  Well,  but  that's  a  bad  sign,"  he 
said. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  she  answered.  "  Do  you  mean  to 
say  that  a  person  can't  have  a  secret  that  isn't  a  sin  ?  " 
As  she  looked  at  him  in  her  sweet,  frank  way,  he  distinctly 
saw  her  blue  eyes  delicately  crossed  by  fine  gray  lines. 

He  had  never  looked  so  closely  into  a  woman's  eyes  be- 
fore, and  he  had  difficulty  in  turning  away  his  eyes  and 
collecting  his  thoughts.  "It  certainly  has  something  to 
do  with  love,"  he  said. 

"  That's  a  clever  idea,"  said  she,  with  a  look  of  clear 
scorn.  "  If  a  girl's  twenty-two,  it's  usually  a  matter  of 
love.  It  miglit  just  as  well  be  that  I  had  lost  some  gold 
plate  at  my  goldsmith  work,  or  something  else  of  that 
sort."     And  she  laughed  at  him  gayly. 

"I  saw  all  your  teeth  then,"  said  Klaus. 

She  raised  her  hands,  laughing.  "  That's  another  sin," 
she  said. 

They  came  down  from  the  high  ground  toward  the 
village  lying  in  front  of  them  in  the  pleasant  evening  light. 


312  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

The  girl's  alert  eyes  peered  into  the  distance,  wandered  to 
the  distant  hills  on  the  left,  and  then  reverted  hastily  to 
the  man  at  her  side.  He  saw  little  of  the  beautiful  land- 
scape stretching  around  him  ;  he  had  eyes  only  for  the  girl 
swinging  lightly  along  at  his  side. 

At  the  very  beginning  of  the  main  street,  she  pointed  to 
a  nice-looking  red  house  surrounded  by  a  little  garden 
filled  with  shrubs.  "  That's  where  we  live,"  she  said. 
"  An  uncle  of  mine,  who  used  to  have  a  farm  here,  retained 
the  house,  and  after  his  death  it  came  to  us.  But  we  still 
have  a  little  farm  left ;  my  aunt  manages  it." 

She  let  him  in,  took  his  hat  and  cane,  and  showed  him 
into  the  little  dining  room,  where  the  table  was  already 
set.  Then  she  showed  him  the  larger  living-room,  where 
her  work-table  stood  by  the  window.  It  was  covered  with 
wrought  plate,  books,  and  all  kinds  of  tools.  In  her  easy 
way,  she  took  him  through  the  kitchen,  where  a  sober  old 
servant  was  getting  supper,  and  then  through  her  bed- 
room. He  looked  curiously  at  the  big  iron  bed  and  the 
plain  booksheU^es,  at  the  wash-stand  with  the  big  wash- 
bowl, at  the  white  window-curtains  fluttering  in  the  wind. 
Loath  to  leave,  he  stayed  to  look  at  several  pictures  on  the 
wall.  There  was  a  head  of  Goethe  when  a  young  man,  an 
old  oak  on  the  edge  of  a  forest,  a  naked  girl  sitting  on  her 
bathrobe  on  a  sofa,  a  village  scene  with  a  towering  church. 
Potter's  young  bull,  and  a  tiny  bust  of  Apollo.  He  went 
back  to  the  middle  of  the  room  and  looked  around  again 
while  she  stood  with  her  hand  on  the  door-knob  waiting 
for  him.  At  last  he  said,  very  thoughtfully,  "  There  are 
so  few  people  —  so  few  men,  even  —  who  have  a  character 
and  a  will  of  their  own.  I've  been  living  for  six  years 
with  a  woman  who  simply  hung  on,  now  to  me,  now  to  her 
mother,  and  now  to  some  neighbor.  You're  a  girl,  and  a 
very  young  one  —  and  yet  you  stand  absolutely  on  your 
own  feet." 

She  had  been  listening  to  him  in  amazement,  her  wise 
eyes  fastened  upon  him.  When  he  had  finished  she  gave 
him  a  long  searching  glance,  and  then  walked  silently  out 
of  the  room  ahead  of  him. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  313 

"When  they  went  back  to  the  dining  room  they  found 
the  aunt,  home  from  the  fiehi,  sitting  in  her  stately  way  at 
the  table.  She  laughed  cheerily  and  said,  in  her  soft, 
kindly  old  voice :  "  Who  is  this  you're  bringing  in,  you 
gadabout?  The  first  look  I  gave  your  work-table,  I  knew 
you'd  been  afflicted  with  laziness  and  had  gone  out." 

When  she  heard  the  guest's  name  she  recognized  him 
and  seemed  glad  to  see  him.  "  Just  as  I  was  going  out  to 
see  to  the  milking  a  little  while  ago,"  she  said  to  her  niece, 
"  I  met  our  light-haired  friend,  come  out  from  town.  He 
wanted  to  know  whether  the  brooch  was  done,  and  he 
seemed  to  be  sorry  you  weren't  at  home.  He  just  looked 
blankly  around  the  room." 

"  Oh,  well,"  the  girl  said,  "  he's  one  of  those  folks  that 
look  as  if  they  hadn't  quite  got  over  their  last  yawn." 
Then  she  told  about  the  tragedy  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
forest,  about  how  she  had  met  Klaus,  and  how  she  had 
wheedled  a  cane  out  of  the  old  man. 

After  supper  they  went  into  the  sitting-room  and  sat 
around  the  table  with  the  lamp.  Klaus  Baas's  chair  was 
opposite  the  sofa.  The  aunt  sat  in  a  comfortable  wicker 
chair  beside  him.  The  handsome  girl  established  herself 
straightway  on  the  broad  sofa.  "  Now,  aunt,"  she  said, 
"he  wants  to  know  my  whole  story,  and  I  told  him  that  I 
couldn't  be  telling  it  all  the  time.  So  go  on,  you  tell  him 
the  life  history  of  Doris  Rotermund."  She  leaned  back,  let- 
ting her  calm  eyes  roam  now  to  the  guest,  now  to  her  aunt, 
now  along  the  walls,  on  which  appeared  here  and  there  a 
warm  bright  reflection  from  a  gold  frame  or  a  glass.  In 
the  course  of  the  evening  she  built  herself  a  regular  nest 
out  of  all  kinds  of  gay  pillows,  which  she  had  doubtless 
worked  herself.  Then  stealthily  and  cautiously,  she  took 
off  her  shoes  and  tucked  her  feet  under  her,  seeming  to 
feel  tremendously  comfortable.  Meantime  her  aunt  went 
serenely  on  with  the  diverting  story  :  — 

"  She  is  the  daughter  of  a  captain  from  Apenrade.  He 
could  take  his  wife,  who  was  my  sister,  to  sea  with  him, 
especially  as  he  had  an  interest  of  three  thousand  marks 
in  the  ship.     Their  first  child,  her  brother,  was  born  on  the 


314  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

Indian  Ocean ;  he  is  a  mate  now.  When  the  captain  and 
his  wife  canie  home  again  after  this  voyage,  they  left  the 
baby  with  its  grandparents  in  Apenrade  and  embarked 
again  for  the  South  Sea.  This  girl  was  born  there,  but  in 
what  degrees  of  latitude  and  longitude  we  don't  know,  for 
the  ship's  records  were  lost.  We  know  the  date  of  her 
birth,  however,  because  her  father  and  mother  sent  the 
news  to  the  grandparents  from  Melbourne,  the  nearest 
port.  She  was  kept  on  board  the  ship,  which  went  on 
into  the  South  Sea  from  Melbourne  to  Auckland,  from 
there  to  Samoa,  and  to  San  Francisco. 

"  We  do  not  really  know  what  kind  of  people  her  parents 
were.  Her  mother,  my  sister,  was  brought  up  by  an  uncle, 
and  I  hardly  knew  her.  And  what  grandfather  and  grand- 
mother tell  about  her  hardly  counts  ;  for  as  a  rule  parents 
don't  know  their  own  children.  But  in  Hamburg  once 
we  hunted  up  an  old  sailor  who  was  on  board  with  them 
for  a  good  while.  One  of  the  things  he  told  was  that  the 
two  were  always  joking  each  other,  and  that  they  always 
treated  the  crew  well.  One  day,  he  said,  my  sister  hap- 
pened to  say  that  the  people  on  the  Frisia  were  certainly 
contented,  and  that  they  ought  to  be,  for  they  wouldn't 
fare  so  well  on  any  other  ship.  Her  husband  said  that 
wasn't  altogether  true,  for  there  was  Jan  Maat,  whom 
nothing  could  satisfy.  Then  they  made  a  wager  about 
whether  she  could  succeed  in  really  making  Jan  Maat  sat- 
isfied for  once  in  his  life.  If  the  captain  lost,  he  was  to 
buy  her  a  silk  lace  scarf  in  Melbourne,  She  had  a  lot  of 
short  curly  hair,  like  Doris's  and  mine,  particularly  around 
her  temples;  and  the  wind  loosened  it  and  blew  it  around 
her  ears.     If  she  lost,  she  was  to  buy  him  a  gay  vest. 

"  On  Sunday  she  herself  took  into  their  quarters  a  par- 
ticularly good  meat  dish.  She  stayed  with  them  for  a 
little  while  and  asked  them  if  it  was  good.  They  all 
nodded,  '  Yes,  indeed,  missus,  just  fine.'  When  they  fin- 
ished that,  she  took  them  some  fine  apple  dumplings,  made 
out  of  dried  Australian  apples  and  covered  with  sauce. 
She  asked  again  if  they  tasted  good.  '  Yes,  indeed, 
missus,' they  said,  'just  fine.'     When  they  had  finished 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  315 

the  dumplings,  she  brouglit  them  two  bottles  of  wine,  and 
asked  casually  if  they  were  quite  satisfied.  They  nodded. 
'Yes,  indeed,  missus,  we're  quite  satisfied  now.'  She 
was  in  high  glee  at  having  won  the  bet.  But,  quite  wil- 
ling to  hear  a  little  more  commendation,  she  hid  behind 
the  door  and  listened  to  what  they  said.  They  talked 
about  various  things.  And  then  some  one  said,  '  Satis- 
fied, are  we  ?  not  by  a  long  shot.  The  next  thing  to  do 
is  to  sleep  with  the  missus.'  At  that  she  hurried  away 
into  the  cabin,  where  she  declared  that  she  had  won.  But 
her  husband,  seeing  her  blush,  knew  that  something  was 
wrong,  and  kept  at  her  till  she  confessed.  He  laughed 
long  and  loud,  while  she  scolded  ;  and  finally  she  laughed 
too.  For  three  days  she  gave  them  poor  food  in  order  to 
make  up  for  the  gay  vest  she  had  lost  to  the  captain. 

"  On  the  next  voyage  —  Doris  w^as  then  a  year  old  — 
the  ship  struck  a  bad  storm  on  the  high  seas,  sprang  a 
leak,  and  began  to  sink.  The  mate  had  to  get  the  boats 
ready  at  once,  and  give  a  signal  of  distress  to  a  steamer 
that  was  in  sight.  Meanwhile  Doris's  father  and  mother 
bundled  her  into  a  gin  cask  and  fastened  strips  of  boarding 
across  the  top  so  that  she  would  make  the  trip  over  the 
edge  into  the  boat  as  simply  and  safely  as  possible.  They 
carried  the  cask  on  deck  and  tied  it  to  the  mizzenmast  till 
they  were  ready  to  go,  and  left  the  boy  to  take  care  of  it. 
Then  they  went  below  to  get  the  ship's  papers,  the  provi- 
sions, and  the  bedding.  In  the  meantime  the  rest  of  the 
crew,  who  had  come  to  launch  the  boats,  saw  the  cask  of 
gin  standing  there.  The  boy  had  lost  his  head  and  forgot 
his  orders.  'What's  that  full  cask  doing  there?'  they  ex- 
claimed to  one  another.  '  Open  it  up,  Blau,  so  we  can 
take  along  a  few  bottles.'  Just  as  the  carpenter  raised 
his  axe,  my  sister  appeared.  She  ran  under  the  axe  —  and 
was  severely  wounded  in  the  arm.  That's  how  it  hap- 
pened that  she  didn't  go  over  with  the  baby  in  the  first 
boat.  The  second,  carrying  the  father  and  mother,  was 
wrecked  just  as  it  started.  In  a  few  minutes  it  filled  with 
water  and  sank.  The  second  mate,  a  young  man  of 
twenty-two,  brought  the  child  over  from   Melbourne  to 


316  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Hamburg  and  handed  her  over  to  her  grandparents.     She 
was  carefully  brought  up  by  them  in  Apenrade. 

"  After  she  was  confirmed,  she  continued  to  help  her 
grandmother  with  the  housekeeping,  spending  her  spare 
time  at  a  goldsmith's.  Finally  she  went  to  Hamburg  for 
a  year,  in  order  to  learn  what  she  needed  to  know  about 
her  art  and  craft.  Tlien  we  came  here  to  live  in  the 
house  our  uncle  had  left.  She  has  an  imagination  that 
sees  delicate  beauty  everywhere  ;  and  she  has  skilful  hands 
in  showing  it  forth.  She  has  no  trouble  in  finding  pui'- 
chasers  for  her  finished  work  or  her  designs,  either  in  the 
province  or  in  Hamburg." 

Here  Doris  Rotermund  leaned  forward  a  little  from  her 
sofa  corner.  "  Well,  now,  finish  it  up  quick,  auntie,"  she 
said.     "  Now  tell  him  about  the  merchant." 

The  aunt  looked  at  her  in  amazment,  then  looked  hesi- 
tatingly at  Klaus  Baas.  "Do  you  really  mean  me  to  tell 
that  ?  "  she  asked  dubiously.  "  Why,  not  another  soul 
knows  anything  about  it."  And  she  laid  her  hand  ten- 
derly on  Doris's  arm. 

But  as  Doris  nodded  and  repeated,  "  Go  on,  tell  it,"  she 
went  hesitatingly  on  with  the  story. 

"  Two  years  ago,  just  after  we  had  settled  here,  her 
brother,  the  mate,  came  to  see  us,  bringing  with  him  a 
friend  of  his,  a  merchant.  At  first  he  spent  a  week  here 
with  the  brother,  as  our  guest  ;  and  then  he  stayed  on  a 
week  with  us  alone.  During  that  last  week  she  and  her 
brother's  friend  were  constantly  together  —  in  the  house, 
out  walking  in  the  fields  and  the  wood,  and  often  until 
late  at  night.  I  didn't  hinder  her.  She  is  grown  up,  and 
knows  what  she's  about.  When  he  went  away,  I  asked 
her  whether  she  was  engaged  to  him.  She  answered, 
'  You  know  he  has  to  go  away  to  Eastern  Asia  for  three 
years.  I  don't  know  whether  I  can  wait  for  him  three 
years.  And  maybe  he  would  be  even  less  able  to  wait 
than  I  am.  So  why  should  we  deceive  each  other?  We 
have  agreed  that  each  of  us  shall  be  a  free  agent  and  shall 
do  or  not  do  just  what  he  can  justify  to  himself.  And 
when  we  meet  again  neither  shall   call  the  other  to  ac- 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  317 

count.'  So  that's  tlie  way  it  is  now.  For  two  years 
they've  been  exchanging  friendly  letters,  which  I'm  always 
allowed  to  read.  At  the  end  of  the  letters  there's  always 
the  same  thing  —  'I'd  give  anything  in  the  Avorld  to  kiss 
you  again.  I  have  kissed  you  only  five  times  —  do  you 
remember  when?  Once  at  Schledorn.  Once  by  the  river. 
And  three  times  in  your  room.'  " 

Klaus  Baas  looked  over  at  the  girl  in  the  sofa  corner. 
"  So  those  are  the  five  sins  !  "  he  thought.  "  Well  !  but 
they  weren't  kisses,  you  rogue,"  he  thought,  looking  at 
her  saucily.      "  They  were  more  than  that,  I  know  !  " 

She  returned  his  look  calmly  and  soberly,  as  if  to  say, 
♦'  You  would  have  done  it,  too."  Then  her  endurance  gave 
out  and  she  bowed  her  head  in  her  hands  and  wept. 

Klaus  Baas  and  the  aunt  were  silent  and  embarrassed. 
Her  aunt  caressed  her  cheek.  She  quickly  recovered  her- 
self, and  crept  out  of  her  nest  of  cushions.  "  I'm  tired 
now,"  she  said.  "  If  you  want  to  spend  another  day 
around  here,  you'd  better  go  to  the  Bornhoveder  heath  to- 
morrow morning.  It's  very  broad  and  beautiful,  and  has 
an  atmosphere  all  its  own.  Then  come  back  here  and  talk 
to-morrow  evening." 

Klaus  left  then  and  went  to  spend  the  night  at  the  inn. 
He  spent  the  next  day  wandering  through  old  villages  on 
the  heath,  where  the  houses  seemed  half  sunken  into  the 
ground.  He  walked  across  great  silent  meadows,  and 
stood  for  a  long  time  on  the-  Konigshugel  looking  far  out 
over  the  expanse  of  fields  to  the  west,  from  which,  seven 
hundred  years  before,  his  countrymen  had  advanced  to 
a  momentous  battle.  He  returned  to  the  village  in  the 
evening  twilight.  As  he  passed  Doris's  house  the 
shades  were  not  drawn,  and  he  saw  her  sitting  working 
by  lamplight.  He  stood  for  a  while  at  the  hedge  watch- 
ing her  hammer  and  file  and  fit  pieces  together  as  she 
sat  with  her  head  bent  and  her  hair  waving  around  her 
temples. 

When  he  went  there  after  supper,  they  were  sitting  in 
the  same  places  they  had  been  in  the  evening  before,  and 
his  chair  was  placed,  too.     They  gave  him  apples,  and 


318  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

asked  questions  about  his  walk.  Then  they  said  it  was 
his  turn  now  to  tell  something  about  his  life. 

Gravely  he  began  his  story.  He  told  them  about  the 
stormy  day  of  his  baptism,  about  playing  hoop  in  the 
wind  with  the  round  shavings,  about  the  churchyard  and 
Liese  Lachmann,  and  about  the  death  of  his  father  and 
sister.  Then  he  went  on  to  the  tall  painter,  Tante  Laura, 
and  to  Peter  Soot.  He  told  about  himself,  first  as  an 
intimidated,  then  a  haughty,  apprentice  in  P.  C.  Trim- 
born's  office ;  about  Heini  Peters ;  about  Suse  Garbens's 
engagement ;  about  the  girl  that  was  angry,  and  about  the 
gentle  one  in  the  Miihlen  Strasse  whom  he  had  betrayed. 
He  told  about  those  fine  nights  at  Blankenese,  and  about 
the  hot  nights  in  India.  He  explained  how,  when  he  had 
come  back  home,  he  had  taken  the  first  pretty  girl  that 
had  crossed  his  path,  and  how,  in  those  years  when  he 
was  living  with  her,  he  had  broadened  and  grown  more 
mature,  but  had  been  unhappy  in  a  constant  sense  of  re- 
straint. He  told  it  all  open-heartedly,  sometimes  dream- 
ily, sometimes  harshly,  clearly,  and  passionately.  He  told 
it  straight  to  her,  with  a  direct  appeal  to  the  beautiful, 
understanding  eyes.  And  when  he  had  finished  the  eyes 
were  full  of  a  strange  and  powerful  love. 

Just  then  the  door  opened  and  a  little  girl  of  the  neigh- 
borhood came  in  to  ask  whether  the  aunt  wouldn't  come 
over  for  a  little  while.  Her  father  and  mother  had  gone 
to  see  her  sick  grandmother,  and  the  children  were  afraid. 
The  aunt  got  up  at  once,  said  good  night  to  Klaus,  and 
went  out. 

Klaus  went  back  to  sit  down  again.  But  he  knew  that 
he  could  not  speak  calmly.  He  looked  at  her,  and  with  a 
hesitating  "  Shall  I  go  ?  "  reached  out  his  hand  toward 
her. 

She  rose  slowly  from  her  corner,  keeping  her  eyes  on 
the  floor.  She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  started  around 
his  chair.  But  as  she  came  near  him,  and  stood  there 
holding  his  hand,  trembling  and  helpless,  he  drew  her 
suddenly  to  him.  In  a  transport  of  passion  he  kissed  her 
over  and  over  again,  stroking  her  hair,  and  insisting  that 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  319 

she  should  and  must  be  good  to  him,  if  it  were  only  this 
once.  He  had  been  unhappy  and  chilled  for  so  long.  He 
had  never  known  what  complete  love  was ;  she  was  un- 
utterably lovely  and  dear  to  him.  With  closed  eyes  she 
stood  there  in  his  arras,  shaking  her  head  silently.  She 
tried  to  say  that  she  was  not  responsible  for  her  nature, 
that  she  wasn't  really  bad,  that  she  honestly  did  not  want 
to  desert  her  other  lover.  She  tried  to  smile,  but  her  lips 
trembled,  and  the  tears  welled  from  between  her  closed 
lids.  Then,  as  if  the  first  storm  were  over,  she  recovered 
herself  somewhat,  looked  around  the  room,  straightened 
her  hair,  and  then  stood  there  in  his  arms,  calmly,  in  full 
possession  of  herself.  With  her  handsome  head  bowed 
thoughtfully,  she  went  with  him  into  her  bedroom. 

Very  early  the  next  morning  she  accompanied  him  to 
the  bridge  over  the  river,  which  in  a  beautiful  sweep 
winds  southward  from  the  village  through  the  broad 
valley.  He  made  her  promise  him  again  and  again  that 
she  would  write  to  him  if  she  got  into  trouble.  And  walk- 
ing along  on  his  arm,  and  looking  a  little  pale  and  tired, 
she  smiled  wisely,  almost  a  little  scornfully,  to  herself, 
and  promised  him,  absolutely  composed  and  assured  again, 
just  as  she  was  when  he  had  first  seen  her  at  the  edge  of 
the  forest. 

He  besought  her  not  to  think  for  a  moment  that  he 
thought  the  least  bit  less  of  her  now.  At  that  she  shook 
her  head.  "  Of  course  not!  "  she  said.  "  How  could  you 
think  it  was  contemptible  in  me  when  it  wasn't  contemp- 
tible in  you? " 

They  soon  reached  the  river.  When  they  were  half- 
way across  the  old  wooden  bridge,  she  gave  him  her  hand 
and  looked  into  his  face  a  long  while,  as  if  she  wanted  to 
retain  it  in  her  memory.  "  There's  one  thing  more  I  want 
to  tell  you,"  she  said,  "and  that  is  that  I  thank  you." 
He  drew  her  to  him  and  kissed  her,  telling  her  once  more 
how  he  marvelled  at  her  beautiful  true  nature,  and  how 
much  good  she  had  done  him.     Then  he  left  her. 

When  he  had  gone  a  short  distance,  he  looked  around 


320  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

and  saw  her  form  just  vanishing  along  the  overgrown  road. 
Behind  her  rose  the  dark  bulk  of  the  village,  over  which 
hung  the  cool,  dark  gray  sky  of  dawn,  mistily  concealing 
infinite  depths.  He  stood  still  for  a  while  to  see  if  he  could 
catch  another  glimpse  of  her.  Then  he  collected  himself, 
suddenly  realizing  that  he  was  alone.  And  overwhelmed 
at  what  he  had  passed  through,  he  cried  out  through  the 
quiet,  gray  dawn,  "  Now  I  have  known  the  divine  miracle. 
I  have  known  what  life  and  love  are.  And  I  know  the 
meaning  of  wife  and  children,  of  sorrow  and  of  death !  " 


CHAPTER   XX 

The  sky  was  overcast  when  he  came  into  Hamburg*  at 
about  noon.  It  occurred  to  him,  since  he  was  feeling'  so 
cheerful,  to  look  in  on  Heini  Peters  as  he  passed,  before 
devoting  himself  to  his  own  business.  Engrossed  with 
his  own  affairs  and  with  family  worries,  he  had  in  all 
this  time  seen  Heini  Peters  very  seldom,  and  then  only 
in  the  town.  All  that  he  knew  about  him  now  was 
that  he  and  his  friend  Busch  still  held  an  agency  —  at 
present  for  household  implements,  and  that  he  was  "doing 
very  well,"  as  the  old  doctors  used  to  say  in  the  square. 

He  found  the  two  men  in  an  untidy  little  office  near  the 
Gansemarkt.  Situated  in  the  rear  of  a  court,  it  was  so 
dark  that  this  morning,  when  it  was  almost  raining  any- 
way, they  had  to  have  the  gas  lighted.  Under  the  light 
the  two  partners  were  sitting  across  from  each  other,  on 
high  office  chairs  at  a  great  double  desk.  Heini  Peters, 
who  had  just  come  back  from  an  errand,  had  on  the  in- 
evitable black  coat,  which  hung  oddly  down  from  his 
chair.  His  friend  Busch  was  a  short,  sturdily  built  man 
of  about  thirty,  whose  broad  features  were  pressed  to- 
gether as  if  some  one  had  put  too  heavy  a  hand  on  his 
head ;  and  he  had  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye.  When 
Klaus  came  in,  Heini  and  Busch  were  in  the  midst  of  a 
loud,  good-humored  chat.  The  thick  smoke  from  their 
short  sailor's  pipes  was  blowing  over  the  desk,  and  they 
had  an  open  beer  bottle  and  glasses  between  them.  In- 
numerable flies  everywhere  on  the  wall  seemed  to  indicate 
that  there  were  stables  near  by. 

Heini  Peters  was  delighted  to  see  his  visitor.  "  This  is 
my  friend  Busch,"  he  said.  "  You've  heard  me  speak  of 
him." 

T  321 


322  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Friend  Busch's  bright  little  eyes  blinked  merrily,  as  if 
he  knew  that  only  very  commendable  things  had  been  told 
of  him.  Taking  a  not  too  clean  glass  from  the  window- 
sill,  he  asked  Klaus  to  have  some  beer,  and  affected  great 
surprise  at  Klaus's  refusal.  "  You  ought  to  take  a  drink 
in  the  mornings,  my  good  sir,"  he  said.  "No  machine 
runs  well  without  oiling." 

With  a  significant  wave  of  his  hand,  Heini  Peters 
turned  his  big,  worried  eyes  on  Klaus  Baas,  and  said, 
with  a  deep  sigh,  "Well,  what  have  you  to  say  about 
these  dreadful  times  ?  " 

"  What's  that  ?  "  asked  Klaus,  rather  at  a  loss.  "  I 
haven't  seen  the  paper  for  four  days."  Then,  with  a  sud- 
den recollection,  he  asked  eagerly.  "Has  the  money 
market  gone  up  as  much  as  that  ?  " 

Heini  Peters  raised  his  long  arm  in  a  sinister  gesture. 
"  Is  it  possible  you  don't  know  ?  "  he  said.  "  Don't  you 
know  that  the  discount  rate  is  seven  per  cent,  that  the 
banks  are  calling  in  their  loans  constantly,  that  Tewes 
and  Gibbon  are  insolvent  ?  People  are  whispering  and 
prophesying  all  sorts  of  things.  Everybody's  asking  for 
his  money  as  if  people  were  trying  to  steal  it ;  or  if 
they  have  it,  they're  holding  on  to  it  as  if  it  would  fly 
away." 

Klaus  Baas  rose,  suddenly  grown  very  grave  and  alert. 
Hastily  going  over  in  his  mind  his  own  affairs  and  the  men 
and  companies  he  knew,  he  pondered  what  significance 
all  this  might  have  for  him.  "Well!"  he  said,  "what 
about  your  business?  How  is  it  going  ?  "  he  went  on,  out 
of  pure  politeness.  He  looked  at  the  man  with  the  broad 
squat  face,  as  if  he  might  be  more  likely  to  get  at  the  facts 
through  him. 

But  friend  Busch  shrugged  his  stocky  shoulders,  reached 
for  his  glass,  took  a  good  swallow,  and  pointing  tlie  empty 
glass  at  his  companion,  said,  "  Make  a  clean  breast  of  it, 
Heini.  Perhaps  tlie  good  gentleman  has  a  thousand  marks 
lying  loose  in  his  pockets." 

Heini  Peters  looked  at  his  old  friend  rather  drearily. 
"  You  know,"  he  said,  "  we've  been  selling  household  arti- 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  323 

cles  for  eight  weeks;  that  is  to  say,  we've  been  trying  to 
sell  them.     But  we  can't  make  it  go." 

"  No,  we  can't,"  put  in  friend  Busch. 

"Through  our  connections  we  got  the  agencies  for  two 
factories.  At  first  I  went  on  the  road,  but  that  didn't 
bring  in  anything.  Then  friend  Busch  went,  but  that 
didn't  bring  in  anything  either.  And  now  we've  lost  the 
best  of  the  agencies." 

Friend  Busch  stroked  his  beard,  which  was  wet  with 
beer,  and  said,  with  a  roguish  twinkle,  "  Each  of  us  has  a 
failing,  Herr  Baas.  Heini's  always  meeting  young  girls  on 
the  way  and  having  to  stop  and  drink  a  cup  of  coffee  or 
chocolate  with  them.  And  I'm  a  little  too  much  on  the 
lookout  for  tavern  signs." 

Heini  Peters  raised  his  long  legs  higher  and  twisted  them 
intricately  around  the  legs  of  his  stool.  "  Eight  weeks 
ago,"  he  began  gloomily,  "  when  we  went  over  to  this 
household  implement  business,  my  old  folks  sent  me  a 
thousand  marks  —  the  last  lot  they  could  get  hold  of. 
Unfortunately  I  had  to  pay  out  three  hundred  marks 
to  the  tailor  at  once;  and  about  a  hundred  to  the 
bookseller." 

"  For  poems  !  "  said  friend  Busch,  blinking  at  Klaus 
Baas. 

Heini  Peters  laughed  gayly  to  himself  for  a  moment, 
then  shook  his  head  and  went  on  soberly.  "  With  the  six 
hundred  that  were  left  we  rented  this  office  and  bought 
the  furniture ;  that  is  to  say,  we  got  it  on  the  instalment 
plan;  it's  about  half  paid  for.  Besides  that,  we  gave  a 
note  for  two  thousand  marks  to  the  master  mason  around 
the  corner  here.  It  fell  due  a  month  ago  and  we  haven't 
a  groschen  to  pay  it  with.  He  would  probably  have  left 
us  in  peace  for  some  time,  ordinarily,  for  my  friend  Busch 
knows  how  to  manage  him.  But  since  this  terrible  short- 
age of  money  began  four  days  ago,  the  man's  got  worried. 
He  drinks  all  the  time  and  he's  after  us  every  day.  It's 
awful.  We  haven't  done  a  stroke  of  business  in  these 
eight  weeks.  Still  —  just  one  little  wringer?  Take  this 
one  to  your  mother,  Klaus.     She'll  like  it." 


324  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

"  You  got  this  wringer  as  a  sample  from  the  factory," 
said  Klaus  Baas,  dryly. 

Heini  Peters  admitted  it.  "  It's  all  up  with  us,  Klaus," 
he  said.  "  It's  a  good  thing  the  mason  is  a  little  dull  and 
lets  us  stand  him  off.     But  how  long  will  it  last  ?  " 

As  he  was  going  on  to  say  something  more  about  his 
creditor,  the  door  opened  with  a  slow  creak,  and  in  came 
the  mason,  a  little,  undersized  fellow,  with  tousled  hair 
and  sad,  glittering  eyes.  He  looked  rather  sick,  and  he 
was  half  drunk. 

Heini  Peters  turned  to  him  at  once,  told  him  he  was 
looking  fine,  and  introduced  Klaus  Baas  as  "a  business 
friend  of  ours,  who  has  his  own  firm  here  in  town." 

The  mason,  in  his  sad-eyed  fashion,  looked  covetously 
at  Klaus  Baas's  tall  figure.  He  turned  back  immediately 
to  Heini  Peters,  however,  and  whispered,  with  a  melan- 
choly look,  »  How  is  he  ?  "  pointing  his  thumb  cautiously 
at  Heini's  partner. 

Klaus  Baas,  following  the  direction  of  the  thumb,  saw 
that  Herr  Busch  was  marvellously  changed.  He  was  stand- 
ing facing  the  wall,  staring  intently  at  the  fly-covered  paper, 
and  waiting  with  his  hand  raised  to  strike  the  next  fly. 
He  held  a  regular  dialogue  with  it,  occasionally  letting  out 
low,  wild  cries.  "Stay  still!  will  you  stay?  swoop!  — 
stay  still  !•  stay  still !  will  you  ?  swoop  !  " 

With  a  worried  look  at  the  fly-catcher,  Heini  Peters  said 
gloomily,  "  He  isn't  any  better  yet.  The  doctor  says  that 
he  catches  and  kills  wild  ideas  humming  around  in  his 
brain,  in  the  shape  of  these  flies,  and  so  the  more  flies  he 
kills,  the  less  often  the  bad  thoughts  come.  At  first  he 
couldn't  get  along  at  all,  but  now  he  really  gets  some  re- 
sults. Just  look  !  You  mustn't  say  anything  about  this, 
Herr  Bicker ;  it  would  hurt  our  credit.  Look  now  —  he's 
got  another." 

The  little  mason  seated  himself  carefully  on  the  chair 
which  Klaus  Baas  had  vacated,  and  with  tears  gleaming  in 
his  eyes,  solemnly  studied  the  fly-catcher. 

Klaus  Baas  took  his  hat  and  went  out,  Heini  Peters 
accompanying  him. 


KLAUS   HINRICR  BAAS  325 

When  the  door  had  closed  behind  him,  Heini  Peters 
laughed  till  he  shook.  Then  he  asked  Klaus  about  the 
sexton  and  about  the  condition  of  the  grave  they  had 
dedicated  together  six  years  before. 

But  Klaus  Baas  did  not  want  to  hear  anything  about 
that  time  or  that  place.  "  I  really  don't  know  anything 
about  it,"  he  said. 

Suddenly  Heini  Peters  was  talking  about  the  Siillberg. 
"  I  tell  you,  we  certainly  danced  last  Sunday  —  it  was  fine  I 
And  you  ought  to  have  seen  how  she  thanked  me  —  it  was 
simply  ravishing.  On  Sunday  we're  going  to  Ohlsdorf." 
Suddenly  he  sank  into  troubled  meditation.  "  I  don't 
know  what's  the  matter  with  me,"  he  said.  "  Think  of  it 
—  a  grave-digger  that  dances,  and  a  dancer  that  jumps  over 
graves  !  "  He  laughed  heartily,  and  shook  his  head  at  his 
own  happy  speech.  Then  he  turned  sober  again.  "  Say, 
Klaas  Hinrich  —  it  goes  hard  to  ask  it,  but  we  haven't  an- 
other way  out.  If  you  could  just  let  us  have  a  hundred 
marks  —  but  I  don't  suppose  you  could  or  would  ?  " 

Klaus  Baas  shook  his  head.  "  I'm  going  to  need  all  my 
money  now  myself,  Heini !  "  he  said  curtly. 

Heini  Peters  had  already  recovered  his  buoyancy.  "Oh, 
all  right,  all  right,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "  I  just  thought  I'd 
ask  you.     No  hard  feelings,  I  hope.     Come  again  soon." 

Klaus  Baas  hurried  on  in  order  to  reach  the  Exchange 
in  good  time.  When  he  got  to  the  Reesendamm  he  saw 
his  old  chief,  Herr  Trimborn^  crossing  the  Jungfernstieg 
and  hurrying  toward  the  Exchange.  Klaus  had  seen  him 
occasionally  in  the  last  few  years,  but  never  to  speak  to. 
He  bowed  to  him  now.  Since  the  way  in  which  Herr 
Trimborn  spoke  to  him  assured  him,  according  to  signs 
he  remembered  from  the  office,  that  the  chief  was  in  a  good 
humor,  Klaus  went  up  to  him  and  made  himself  known. 

Herr  Trimborn  remembered  him,  and  asked  politely 
where  he  had  been  and  where  he  was  going.  Noticing 
that  his  young  companion  was  rather  reserved,  he  opened 
up  a  little  more.  "  These  are  hard  times,  my  dear  Herr 
Baas,"  he  said.  "It's  dreadful  over  in  America.  And 
here  —  Tewes  and  Gibbon  !  just  think  of  it !     A  good  old 


326  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

firm  like  that.  And  there  are  all  kinds  of  rumors,  all 
kinds  !  "  Suddenly  he  remembered  Klaus  Baas's  connec- 
tion with  the  firm  of  H.  C.  Eschen.  "  Oh,  yes,"  he  said, 
"  you  were  over  there  ?  In  the  Straits  for  A.  W.  Thauler, 
weren't  you  ?  That's  riglit.  And  I  believe  you  were 
there  for  a  while  in  the  interests  of  H,  C.  Eschen  also. 
And  young  Eschen  died  there,  in  your  arms.  Yes,  yes,  I 
remember  very  well.  You  two  were  friends  when  you 
were  in  my  office  together.  That  does  you  great  credit, 
Herr  Baas,  certainly.  Ah,  yes  —  many  a  poor  fellow  lies 
over  yonder !  You  got  the  mine  there  working,  didn't 
you  ?  Yes,  so  you  did.  Herr  Wilhelm  Thauler  told  me 
so  at  the  time.  A  very  good  piece  of  work  !  Why  didn't 
you  come  back  to  us  after  that,  or  else  stay  with  A.  W. 
Thauler  ?  " 

Klaus  Baas  told  him  that  both  he  and  Thauler  had  been 
away  when  he  returned  from  India,  and  that  an  opening  in 
the  country  had  been  offered  to  him.  He  added  that  he  had 
earned  a  considerable  sum  and  that  he  had  now  returned 
to  Hamburg  either  to  take  up  the  management  of  a  bank 
that  had  been  offered  to  him,  or,  preferably,  to  buy  an 
interest  in  some  business. 

Herr  Trimborn,  however,  had  no  interest  in  listening  to 
all  that.  He  was  a  little  deaf,  and  like  most  old  people, 
he  liked  to  keep  to  the  original  subject.  "About  the  Eschen 
firm,  Herr  Baas  —  I  was  about  to  say  that  it's  in  a  bad 
way.  You  know  the  head  of  it,  Herr  Arthur  Eschen  ? 
His  wife  is  slightly  related  to  my  cousin  —  an  elegant 
woman,  Herr  Baas,  Frau  Eschen  is  —  perhaps  a  little  bit 
too  elegant.  Four  weeks  ago  Herr  Arthur  Eschen  and 
his  wife  went  over  to  the  Straits  to  look  after  their  claims. 
And  now  his  partner  here,  an  elderly  gentleman — by  no 
means  a  bad  sort,  who  held  a  position  over  there  in  eastern 
Asia  for  fifteen  years  and  got  into  the  firm  with  the  money 
he  earned  there  —  well,  he's  very  sick.  Well  !  and  now 
comes  this  shortage  of  money  !  A  bad  situation.  The 
banks,  you  know,  are  not  only  holding  fast  to  what  they 
have  ;  they  are  also  calling  in  as  much  as  they  can.  And 
H.  C.  Eschen  works  a  great  deal  on  credit —  far  too  much 


KLAUS   HINRICrl   BAAS  327 

on  credit,  my  dear  Herr  Biuis.  And  besides,  his  household 
made  so  many  demands.  And  wh}^  did  his  wife  want  to  go 
along  with  him  to  India  jnst  now  ?  All  that  has  to  be 
covered.  So  long  as  the  market  is  good,  it's  all  very  well. 
But  when  a  crisis  comes,  there's  trouble.  I'm  not  telling 
you  any  secret,  Herr  Baas.  Yesterday  people  said  openly 
that  the  firm  had  failed.  At  all  events,  they're  in  great 
straits.  Herr  Wilhelm  Thauler,  who  was  a  friend  of  the 
dead  Herr  Eschen,  the  father,  has  consulted  with  the  widow, 
Frau  Eschen.  Perhaps  he  can  give  you  closer  details  if 
you  are  still  interested  in  the  old  firm." 

Klaus  Baas  listened  tensely.  Every  word  had  its  effect 
on  him.  What  was  all  this  ?  Was  there  a  chance  here — 
perhaps  a  big  one  ?  But  could  he  do  it  ?  He  had  never 
directed  a  firm  like  that.  And  he  had  been  out  of  business 
like  that  for  six  years.  He  could  always  be  sure  of  a 
position  like  the  one  offered  him  at  the  bank.  He  would 
take  hold  of  this  other  !  He  certainly  knew  the  business  ; 
and  he  knew  that  Frau  Eschen,  Karl's  mother,  would  have 
confidence  in  him.  He  had  a  right  to  offer  himself  !  The 
mother  knew  that.  And  he  would  take  hold !  In  it 
might  lie  success. 

As  the  old  man  paused,  Klaus  Baas  stood  still.  "  Herr 
Trimborn,"  he  said  ver}-  deliberately,  "  I  am  going  to  try 
at  once  to  get  the  necessary  information  about  the  firm  of 
H.  C.  Eschen.  Then  I  am  going  to  see  Frau  Eschen  and 
the  sick  partner.  If  I  find  that  there  is  still  any  use  in  it, 
I  shall  place  my  ability  and  my  little  capital  of  forty  thou- 
sand marks  at  the  disposal  of  the  firm,  I  am  telling  you 
this  because  I  may  have  to  ask  for  your  advice  and  your 
recommendation." 

The  old  gentleman  was  astounded.  "  Well,  well, 
indeed  !  "  he  said.  "To  think  that  when  I  was  talking  to 
myself  rather  than  to  you,  I  should  accomplish  so  much  I 
Well,  well !  See  here,  Herr  Baas.  I'd  be  very  glad  indeed 
to  see  the  old  firm  stand  !  How  strange  that  I  should 
meet  you  just  then  I  That's  probably  an  excellent  idea, 
Herr  Baas.  It's  just  the  thing  for  you.  Herr  Thauler 
will  be  glad  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  of  course."     And  he 


328  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

kept  on  repeating,  "Well,  well !  "  and  shaking  his  gray 
head,  in  the  way  of  old  people  recognizing  the  way  of  the 
world,  as  he  looked  into  the  throngs  pressing  into  the  Ex- 
change.    He  had  seen  many  men  pass  through  that  door 

—  many  that  never  came  there  any  more.  Smitten  by 
their  own  failures  and  by  grave  accidents  as  well,  they 
had  been  pushed  aside  and  then  cast  out  by  the  hurrying 
stream  of  time. 

Klaus  Baas  knew  at  once  by  the  subdued  buzz  that  there 
was  news  of  some  new  misfortune.  As  he  made  his  way 
slowly  through  the  crowd,  which  was  now  taking  shape, 
he  heard  here  and  there  the  name  of  a  rather  important 
export  firm  ;  and  then,  more  loudly  and  distinctly,  he 
caught  the  name  of  an  old,  distinguished  bank.  A  heavy 
cloud  seemed  to  rest  upon  the  whole  throng.  There  was 
no  laughing  or  joking  anywhere  ;  no  one  was  cheerful  or 
smiling.  Every  face  was  still  and  drawn.  All  the  men 
there  had  the  same  sober  look  and  the  same  sober  specula- 
tion:  "Who  will  be  the  next?  What  all  will  happen 
now  ?  If  that  firm  can't  hold  out,  who  can  ?  Can  you?" 
Every  man  of  them  reflected  sharply  and  suspiciously  on 
how  it  stood  with  him,  —  on  the  probable  security  of  the 
bank  he  was  dealing  with  ;  on  the  present  values  of  certain 
goods  ;  on  his  business  friends  and  creditors  ;  in  short,  on 
every  dark  possibility  that  the  morrow  might  bring  forth 

—  on  his  wife  and  children  at  home,  and  on  his  friends. 
In  one  place  two  elderly  men,  representatives  of  dis- 
tinguished firms,  and  close  acquaintances,  were  talking 
with  low  voices  and  subdued  looks  about  this  new  catas- 
trophe and  its  significance  for  this  or  that  house.  In  an- 
other place  sat  an  elderly  man  with  a  fine  head,  lost  in 
deep  thought,  fairly  overwhelmed  by  the  failure  of  an  old 
firm,  thi'ee  generations  of  which  he  had  known.  In  the 
midst  of  the  subdued  hum  of  men  and  voices,  he  sat  there 
pondering  about  the  cause  of  it  all,  and  thinking  of  his 
own  firm  and  his  children  and  grandchildren.  Around 
the  pillars  were  grouped  a  number  of  younger  men  whose 
aspect  was  less  grave.  Once  in  a  while,  scornfully,  con- 
temptuously, they  muttered  aspersions  on  the  unspeakable 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  329 

remissness  of  the  two  chiefs  of  the  firms  that  had  failed. 
They  called  to  notice  how  much  one,  the  younger  of  them, 
had  paid  for  his  establishment  and  how  much  his  wife's 
clothes  and  his  evenings  at  the  club  had  cost.  Not  far 
from  them  a  smug  fellow,  with  his  watch  chain  stretched 
tightly  over  his  well  rounded  front,  was  delivering  to  a 
few  neighbors  words  of  wisdom  on  the  subject  of  the  third 
generation :  "  They  can't  get  along  any  more  !  They 
aren't  wide  awake  and  alei't !  They  don't  do  their  own 
thinking  !  "  Everywhere  throughout  the  great  hall  little 
groups  were  whispering  to  each  other  the  name  of  a  firm 
that  was  in  a  bad  way.  In  the  stockbrokers'  corner  the 
crowd  was  pressing  and  pushing  more  wildly  than  any- 
where else,  calling  out  the  quotations  to  one  another,  in 
lower  voices,  perhaps,  but  more  excitedly.  A  small  jobber, 
in  a  short  gray  jacket  a  good  deal  the  worse  for  wear,  was 
excitedly  flourishing  his  notebook  and  offering  things  he  did 
not  have  and  could  not  be  responsible  for.  The  news  of 
the  failure  of  the  big  firms  had  gone  to  his  head. 

Klaus  discovered  the  head  of  the  Indian  firm  talking  to 
an  elderly  man.  The  chief  saw  him  and  nodded.  When 
he  had  finished  his  talk  and  saw  that  Klaus  Baas  was  wait- 
ing to  speak  to  him,  he  looked  less  cordial.  He  listened 
to  his  former  employee  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  only 
now  and  then  turning  them  keenly  on  Klaus  Baas.  After 
briefly  recalling  his  friendship  with  Karl  Eschen,  Klaus  Baas 
asked  how  the  firm  of  H.  C..  Eschen  stood,  and  whether 
there  would  be  any  point  in  his  placing  himself  at  its 
disposal. 

Herr  Wilhelm  Thauler  looked  out  over  the  confused 
crowd,  and  then  looked  sharply  into  Klaus's  face.  "  Why 
should  the  firm  hope  that  j-our  services  could  be  of  aid?" 
he  asked. 

"  Because,"  Klaus  Baas  went  on  quickly  and  calmly,  "  if  I 
hear  that  there  is  any  prospect  at  all,  I  will  bring  to  the  firm 
my  ability,  —  I  was  a  good  worker,  I  think,  —  my  knowl- 
edge of  the  firm's  affairs,  and  forty  thousand  marks  of  my 
own  money." 

Stepping  back  out  of  the  crowd  a  little,  Herr  Thauler 


330  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

said  irritably,  but  more  frankly,  "  The  firm  has  heavy  lia- 
bilities. Two  notes  of  fifty  thousand  marks  each  and  one 
of  forty  thousand  fall  due  to-morrow.  Otherwise,  so  far 
as  I  have  been  able  to  determine,  the  affairs  of  the  firm 
are  not  bad.  The  assets,  I  think,  are  good.  But  what 
does  that  amount  to  ?  What  the  banks  want  is  money.  If 
Herr  Eschen  himself  were  here,  perhaps  it  would  be  all 
right.  The  family  is  an  old  one,  and  everybody  pities  the 
mother.  But  the  worst  thing  about  it  all,  Herr  Baas,  the 
thing  that  makes  it  all  look  unpromising,  is  that  Herr 
Arthur  Eschen  is  a  good  deal  to  blame." 

Klaus  thought  a  few  minutes.  "  Wouldn't  it  satisfy 
the  banks  if  I  were  to  put  in  my  earnings  and  my  work, 
which  you  and  Herr  Trimborn  could  recommend?" 

"  I  know  absolutely  that  it  would  not  satisfy  them," 
answered  Herr  Thauler,  coolly.  "  The  banks  will  let  the 
firm  fail  if  the  notes  for  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand 
marks  aren't  redeemed  at  once.  And  after  those  are  at- 
tended to,  there  are  further  difficulties." 

For  a  moment  Klaus  Baas  wondered  whether  it  would 
not  be  worth  while  to  make  the  attempt  with  the  banks, 
anyway ;  then  he  reflected  that  it  would  be  far  better  for 
his  own  purposes  and  for  the  firm,  too,  if  these  first  lia- 
bilities could  be  fully  met.  Arthur  Eschen  would  have  to 
give  him  a  good  deal  of  credit  for  doing  that.  "  If  I  get 
together  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  marks,"  he 
asked  boldly,  "  can  I  count  on  you  for  the  other  twenty 
thousand  ?  " 

Herr  Wilhelm  Thauler  looked  gloomily  into  the  crowd. 
"That's  asking  too  much,  Herr  Baas,"  he  said.  "Who 
knows  what  times  we  may  be  running  into  ?  " 

"  But  you  would  be  doing  it  for  the  dead  father,"  said 
Klaus  Baas,  firmly  and  guardedly,  in  the  manner  of  a  man 
taking  hold  of  a  piece  of  Venetian  glass.  "  I  am  doing  it 
for  the  son,  who  was  my  friend." 

The  merchant  looked  at  him  quietly.  "  You're  doing  it 
for  yourself,"  he  retorted  coolly.  "  And  you  haven't  done 
it  yet,  either.  Where  are  you  going  to  get  one  hundred 
and  twenty  thousand  marks?     The  partner  is  sick.     And 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  331 

I  know  that  you  have  just  come  from  the  country  and 
haven't  the  necessary  connections.  What  is  more,  I  hardly 
know  you."  He  turned  to  go,  asking  over  his  shoulder, 
"  Do  you  want  anything  else  from  me?  " 

"  I  hope,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  "  that  Frau  Eschen  will  give 
me  her  confidence  without  any  recommendations.  By  her 
dead  son's  letters  she  knows  that  he  thought  a  great  deal 
of  me,  and  you  know  that  though  he  was  very  young,  Karl 
Eschen  was  a  good  business  man.  But  for  the  banks  I 
should  piobably  have  to  refer  to  you.  May  I  come  to  see 
you  about  it  to-morrow  at  twelve  ?  " 

Just  then  the  head  of  one  of  the  banking  firms  which  Herr 
Thauler  had  mentioned  as  creditors  of  H.  C.  Eschen  passed 
by,  and  spoke  to  Thauler.  "  There,"  said  Thauler  to  Klaus, 
"you  can  try  your  luck  at  once." 

The  head  of  the  bank  stopped  and  looked  at  Klaus,  who 
put  his  momentous  question.  But  the  head  did  not  wait 
till  he  had  finished.  "  We  can't  do  anything  at  all  for 
H.  C.  Eschen,"  he  said  coldly.  "  We  have  no  power  to  do 
so.     They  must  show  what  they  can  do  for  themselves." 

With  a  short  nod  of  acknowledgment,  Klaus  Baas  stepped 
back.  Turning  again  to  Herr  Thauler,  he  said,  "  May  I 
come  to  see  you  at  twelve  to-morrow?  " 

"  Yes,  Herr  Baas,  if  there's  still  any  point  in  coming." 

Klaus  Baas  turned  and  went  out.  He  took  a  street-car, 
and  fifteen  minutes  later  he  was  standing  in  the  midst  of 
the  dark,  shiny  oil  paintings-  on  the  Mittelweg.  Frau 
Eschen,  now  a  rather  stout,  fine-looking  matron,  came  in. 
Her  lips  were  trembling,  and  her  eyes  showed  that  she  had 
been  weeping.  She  recognized  him  at  once,  and  listened 
to  what  he  had  to  say,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  him  all  the  time. 

When  he  had  finished,  she  got  up  and  began  to  pace  up 
and  down  the  room,  weeping  quietly  and  calling  her  dead 
son's  name,  as  if  she  yearned  for  his  advice  in  this  time  of 
trouble.  Then  recovering  herself,  she  gave  Klaus  her 
hand  and  sat  down  in  front  of  him.  She  did  not  know  a 
soul  that  could  help  her,  she  said.  Besides  the  money  that 
was  in  the  firm,  she  had  only  a  very  modest  little  private 
fortune  which,  by  her  husband's  wish  and  her  own,  she 


332  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

was  to  keep  for  her  youngest  daughter,  Sauna.  Yesterday 
she  and  Uncle  Eberhaid,  the  seal  collector,  whom  Klaus 
would  probably  remember,  had  discussed  all  the  possible 
sources  of  aid  and  had  found  none  that  promised  anything. 
She  had  been  to  see  the  other  partner,  but  he  was  seriously 
ill  and  of  no  use  in  this  case.  Then  she  showed  Klaus  a 
despatch  from  India  to  the  firm,  which  the  bookkeeper  had 
translated  and  sent  to  her  that  morning.  It  read,  "  Am 
making  over  twenty  thousand  marks  to  the  bank  to-day. 
If  you  need  anything,  go  to  Thauler."  So  there  were 
twenty  thousand  marks,  in  addition  to  his  forty  thousand. 
That  left  eighty  thousand  still  to  be  raised. 

Klaus  Baas  asked  her  for  a  personal  recommendation 
which  he  could  give  to  the  partner,  whom  he  meant 
to  see. 

When  he  had  it,  he  asked  politely  after  the  family. 
The  mother  told  him,  with  a  fresh  burst  of  weeping,  that 
her  oldest  daughter  Trude  had  died  several  years  before 
in  Mexico,  after  only  a  short  period  of  happy  married  life. 
Sanna,  the  younger  daughter,  the  one  he  had  once  trans- 
ferred to  another  bed,  had  been  in  England  for  some  weeks 
with  friends  of  theirs,  making  herself  useful  teaching  Ger- 
man. The  old  mother  of  Herr  Eschen,  Frau  Eschen's 
dead  husband,  whom  Klaus  had  seen  in  the  former  days, 
was  still  living,  and  was  still  deluded  by  her  old  idea  that 
her  sons  were  simply  off  on  a  trip  and  were  all  doing  well. 
She  was  almost  ninety  years  old  now,  and  was  very  near 
her  end ;  she  might  go  any  day,  in  fact. 

Klaus  only  half  listened  to  the  story  the  handsome,  kindly 
woman  was  telling  him  tearfully.  Promising  to  come  back 
in  the  course  of  a  day,  he  left. 

He  went  straight  to  the  partner's  house,  where  he  was  re- 
ceived by  a  maid,  and  told  that  the  gentleman  was  sick  and 
could  not  see  any  one.  Klaus  Baas  asked  several  questions 
about  the  sick  man's  condition  and  whether  he  had  given 
her  these  orders  himself.  He  sent  in  Frau  Eschen's  rec- 
ommendation, but  the  maid  came  back  and  said  that  he 
was  too  sick  to  receive  it.  Then,  pushing  the  girl  aside, 
Klaus  made  his  way  into  the  room,  spoke  for  a  minute  or 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  333 

two  to  the  man's  sad,  quiet  wife,  and  then  went  up  to  the 
sick  man's  bedside. 

He  was  an  elderly  man,  with  a  bald  head  and  a  pointed 
beard.  It  seemed  to  Klaus  that  he  was  more  confused 
than  sick  —  really  beside  liimself,  in  fact.  He  dealt  with 
him  very  gently  and  cautiously,  and  finally  got  him  to  the 
point  of  listening,  at  least.  Klaus  told  him  about  his 
former  connection  with  the  Eschen  firm,  about  Karl  Eschen, 
about  the  sixty  thousand  marks  he  had  on  hand,  and  about 
the  talk  he  had  had  with  Herr  Trimborn  and  Herr  Thauler, 
who  were  ho^jeful  about  the  firm's  chances.  He  finally 
succeeded  in  getting  him  to  the  point  of  raising  himself 
on  his  elbows  and  going  into  a  mournful  story  about  how 
he  had  worked  so  faithfully  and  industriously  for  Broder- 
sen  and  Company  for  fifteen  years  in  Shanghai  and  on  the 
Yangtse.  And  how  he  had  come  back  home,  planning  to 
live  in  peace  in  his  dear  old  home  city  Hamburg  on  the 
eighty  thousand  marks  he  had  earned  so  honestly  and 
laboriously,  and  on  a  small  position  in  some  sort  of  office. 
And  then  the  devil  and  his  foolish  ambition  had  persuaded 
him  to  become  first  procurist  and  then  partner  in  the 
H.  C.  Eschen  firm,  which  had  always  had  such  a  good 
name.  But  since  that  time  he  hadn't  had  a  single  hour  of 
peace,  for  the  firm  was  always  overreaching  itself.  And 
now  all  these  dreadful  thunderbolts  had  to  drop  all  together 
out  of  a  clear  sky  —  the  terrible  shortage  of  money  and  of 
credit;  great  consignments  of  goods  on  hand  that  were 
absolutely  unsalable  at  present;  the  chief  in  India,  and  he 
himself  sick  ! 

Klaus  Baas  put  a  stop  to  the  tale  of  woe  by  taking  out 
a  memorandum  book  and  jotting  down  figures,  names,  and 
dates.  Now  and  then  he  asked  a  few  personal  questions, 
and  cautiously  advanced  tentative  propositions. 

Getting  back  his  spirits  a  little,  the  sick  man  asked  for 
his  own  note-book,  and  began  to  say  what  would  be  possi- 
ble and  what  would  not.  As  he  recovered  his  will  power, 
he  seemed  to  think  it  necessary  to  excuse  himself.  "  You 
see,"  he  said,  with  a  long,  deep  sigh  of  hope,  "  I've  been  a 
good  honest  worker,  and  I  still  am  —  I  can  say  that  for 


334  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

myself.  And  I've  a  thoroughly  practical  way  of  looking 
at  things,  and  some  initiative,  too.  But  I  lack  two  things: 
I  haven't  any  confidence  in  my  own  convictions,  and  need 
some  one  else  to  assume  the  leadership  and  responsibility. 
And  I  haven't  the  gift  of  dealing  cleverly  with  people, 
especially  in  a  ticklish  situation  like  this.  Do  you  know, 
now  that  you're  here,  I  feel  easier.  You've  got  something 
kind  of  encouraging  about  you.  If  you're  willing  to  put 
in  your  forty  thousand,  I'll  put  mine  in,  no  matter  how 
hard  it  is  for  me.  And  I'll  write  a  little  note  for  you  to 
take  at  once  to  a  lady  —  an  old  friend  of  mine.  I  was 
friends  with  her  and  her  husband  during  all  the  years  I 
spent  in  Shanghai.  He  was  a  strong  fellow,  and  he  earned 
a  tidy  fortune,  but  he  died  over  there,  and  his  wife  came 
home.     I  think  she  will  do  it  for  me." 

"  How  much  is  she  worth  ?  "  asked  Klaus  Baas. 

"  Two  hundred  —  three  hundred  thousand  marks,  per- 
haps, —  I  don't  really  know.  But,  Herr  Baas,  I  can't 
guarantee  that  she  will  let  us  have  more  than  twenty 
thousand." 

"  Thirty  thousand,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  with  an  encourag- 
ing nod. 

Rapidly  recovering,  the  partner  wrote  the  note,  saying, 
as  he  did  so,  that  he  hoped  he  could  get  to  the  office  in  the 
morning. 

"I  don't  know — "  he  said  tearfully.  "I'm  beginning 
to  think  of  some  other  things,  too.  Perhaps  if  I  were  to 
write  to  my  former  chief  —  if  he  can  be  made  to  see  the 
situation  —  I  served  his  firm  for  fifteen  years,  and  five  of 
them  I  spent  absolutely  alone  in  a  hut  on  the  Yangtse." 

They  arranged  that  instructions  should  be  sent  to  the 
office  to  have  the  bookkeeper  remain  there  all  night ;  and 
they  agreed  upon  an  answer  to  the  despatch  from  India. 
Then  Klaus  left. 

He  took  a  cab  to  an  imposing  apartment  on  the  ground 
floor  on  the  Grindelhof.  Here  he  found  a  withered  old 
lady  in  black  silk,  sitting  at  a  little  table  of  fine  Chinese 
workmanship,  playing  cards  with  an  old  servant  who 
looked  as  if  she  had  come  straight  from  Wedel  or  Quick- 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  335 

born,  and  had  never  been  out  of  Holstein  in  her  life.  The 
old  lady  read  the  letter,  while  the  old  servant  went  to 
sleep  immediately,  with  her  cards  in  her  hand.  Klaus 
Baas  looked  closely  at  the  old  lady's  sallow  little  face  and 
her  thin  hands  bedecked  with  rings.  When  she  commis- 
erated her  old  friend's  situation,  Klaus  gave  a  pitiable  de- 
scription of  the  state  he  was  in.  It  was  not  to  be  expected 
that  a  lady  of  her  age,  who  had  lived,  moreover,  for  twenty- 
five  years  in  Shanghai  among  ambitious  men,  would  at 
once  hand  over  to  Klaus  Baas  a  check  for  the  thirty  thou- 
sand marks  required.  But  she  got  up  at  once,  with  a 
great  rustling  of  silk  skirts,  which  awakened  the  old  ser- 
vant. In  the  hall  the  old  lady  put  on  her  bonnet  and  cloak, 
the  servant  doing  the  same.  Klaus  Baas,  fearing  that  if 
she  went  straight  to  her  friend,  he  might  lessen  the  sum 
out  of  over-conscientiousness,  arranged,  on  the  ground  that 
it  was  a  matter  of  haste,  that  she  should  go  first  to  the 
bank  and  then  to  her  friend's.     Then  he  left  them. 

Sitting  in  the  street-car,  he  laughed  heartily  to  himself. 
"  Well,  if  any  one  had  told  me  yesterday  what  I  would  be 
doing  to-day  !  "  he  thought.  "Now  to  Uncle  Eberhard  ! 
I  hope  he  still  remembers  the  fine  talk  we  had  about  the 
Dithmarsch  coats  of  arms." 

He  found  Uncle  Eberhard  in  his  modest  flat  pacing  rest- 
lessly up  and  down,  while  his  dinner  was  rapidly  getting 
cold  on  the  table.  In  his  sixties  now,  he  seemed  to  Klaus 
greatly  aged.  His  housekeeper,  a  gentle,  kindly  looking 
woman  of  fifty  or  more,  was  sitting  at  the  end  of  the  table, 
looking  much  concerned.  Klaus  Baas  made  himself  known, 
saying  that  he  had  come  from  Frau  Eschen  and  from  the 
partner.  Then  he  stopped  on  account  of  the  housekeeper's 
presence,  until  Herr  Eschen  told  him  to  go  on.  "  It's  all 
right.  We've  been  together  for  fifteen  years,"  he  said, 
looking  at  Klaus  with  big,  anxious  eyes.  Klaus  set  forth 
bow  matters  stood,  what  he  had  undertaken  to  do,  and 
what  he  had  so  far  accomplished.  Meanwhile  the  house- 
keeper quietly  cleared  the  table. 

When  Klaus  Baas  had  finished,  Uncle  Eberhard  said,  with 
a  deep  sigh,  "  Then  you  think  it's  still  possible  to  save  it  ?  " 


336  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

"  If  we  can  lay  down  one  hundred,  and  forty  thousand 
in  cold  cash  to-morrow,  there  is  hope  that  we  can  pull 
through  the  rest  of  the  hard  times.  I  have  ninety  thou- 
sand now.  Do  you  know  any  one  that  would  help  out  for 
the  sake  of  the  firm,  or  of  Frau  Eschen?  " 

Uncle  Eberhard  walked  up  and  down  the  room,  stood 
still,  looked  despairingl}^  at  every  corner  of  the  room,  and 
finally  said  anxiously:  "Besides  the  sixty  thousand  marks 
which,  as  you  know,  I  have  in  the  firm,  I  have  also  about 
forty  thousand.  My  dear  Herr  Baas  !  you  certainly  don't 
want  me  to  see  the  day  when  I'll  be  walking  along  with 
my  elbows  patched  and  my  shoes  all  out  of  shape,  on  the 
Jungfernstieg,  where  my  great-grandfather  walked  as  a 
senator  ?  "  Standing  in  front  of  Klaus  Baas,  he  looked  at 
him  with  tears  in  his  eyes. 

Just  then  the  housekeeper,  with  a  light  tap  on  Klaus's 
sleeve,  pointed  to  a  cup  of  tea  which  she  had  placed  before 
him.  Klaus  paid  no  attention  to  it,  but  seating  himself 
more  firmly  in  his  chair,  to  indicate  that  he  was  not  weak- 
ening, he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  his  victim.  "I  don't 
want  your  whole  forty  thousand,"  he  said,  "  but  I  do  want 
part  of  it.  And  then  you  must  tell  me  where  I  can  try 
for  more." 

The  neat  little  fellow  shook  his  head  helplessly.  "  What 
do  I  know  about  it  ?  "  he  said,  "  and  what  can  I  do  to  help 
—  and  what  am  I,  anyway  ?  I've  been  a  dead  man  for 
thirty  years,  —  ever  since  I  left  my  cousin's  business. 
Nobody  knows  me,  and  I  don't  know  anybody.  It's  simply 
awful.  Here  you  —  a  stranger,  that's  been  looking  into  the 
business  for  about  four  hours,  —  you  know  more  about  it 
than  I  do  !  What  if  my  old  father  could  see  that  !  "  and 
sitting  down,  he  covered  his  face  with  his  liands. 

But  Klaus  Baas  sat  there,  coldly  speculating  on  taking 
ten  thousand  and  then  going  on  to  hunt  more.  As  he 
was  looking  around  casually,  his  eyes  happened  to  fall  on 
a  sort  of  cabinet  with  a  lot  of  shallow  drawers,  and  he 
wondered  idly  what  was  in  them.  Suddenly  it  flashed 
upon  him — the  collection  of  seals,  of  course.  With  the 
scorn  of  a  man  who   loves    the  life  of  the  present,    its 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  337 

struggles  and  its  gains,  with  all  the  glad  intensity  of 
passionate  youth,  and  who  joys  in  being  a  part  of  it,  he 
asked,  "  Are  you  still  collecting  seals,  Herr  Eschen  ?  " 

The  little  man  started.  "  Yes,  Herr  Baas,"  he  said, 
almost  in  a  whisper,  "  and  if  it's  necessary  —  Herr  Baas  ! 
The  truth  is,  —  it's  been  tormenting  me  ever  since  you  came 
in, — I  can  get  twelve  thousand  marks  for  the  collection 
any  day.  On  a  lower  floor  in  this  very  house  an  old  re- 
tired colonel  lives.  I  think  he  moved  into  this  house  just 
because  he's  got  his  eye  on  my  collection." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Klaus  Baas  to  himself,  "  we'll  make 
it  twenty  thousand." 

Just  then  the  housekeeper,  who  had  been  busy  in  the 
next  room,  appeared  at  the  door  and  asked  Herr  Eschen 
to  come  out  for  a  moment.  The  little  man  looked  up  at 
her  in  amazement  and  followed  her  out  of  the  room,  leav- 
ing Klaus  Baas  sitting  there  reckoning  and  pondering. 

A  little  later  Uncle  Eberhard  returned,  closing  the  door 
gently  behind  him,  as  if  he  were  closing  the  cage  on  a 
canary.  He  sank  into  a  chair,  speechless.  Then  he  said 
in  some  embarrassment  :  "  My  housekeeper  has  just  made 
me  a  proposal.  She  wouldn't  like  to  see  me  sell  my  col- 
lection, so  she  offers  me  all  her  little  fortune  of  fifteen 
thousand  marks  —  and  she  thinks  —  she  thinks — since 
we've  been  living  together  already  for  fifteen  years  —  "  he 
sat  for  a  moment,  without  speaking,  wringing  his  hands 
and  shaking  his  head.  At  last  he  said,  "Well,  why 
shouldn't  we  be  married  ?  It's  about  the  same  thing,  after 
all.  And  I've  never  done  anything  else  for  the  firm  —  all 
I've  ever  done  is  to  take  my  interest.  I've  really  never, 
nev^r  done  anything  for  it." 

"  We'll  take  the  fifteen  thousand  marks,"  said  Klaus 
Baas,  "  and  the  collection,  too.  But  we  won't  sell  it ;  we'll 
see  whether  we  can't  borrow  money  on  it." 

"  But  if  the  money  should  be  lost !  "  said  the  little  man, 
shaking  his  head  disconsolately. 

"  Well,  then,  the  forty  thousand  will  still  be  left,  Herr 
Eschen.  You  can  buy  an  annuity  with  it,  if  it  won't  do 
any  other  way." 


338  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

The  old  man  considered  querulously.  "  They  are  in 
Hamburg  city  bonds,"  he  said.  "  If  they  should  turn 
out  worthless,  too  —  " 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  indifferently,  "  if  the  sky 
falls,  all  the  sparrows  will  be  killed,  of  course."  Then, 
getting  up,  and  asking  the  housekeeper  to  come  in,  he  ex- 
plained everything  to  her.  With  all  her  shyness  and  deli- 
cacy, she  showed  that  she  had  a  clear  head,  and  that  she 
had  long  been  the  gentle  ruler,  not  only  of  the  little  house- 
hold, but  of  the  little  man  as  well.  She  promised  that  she 
herself  would  bring  the  amount  of  her  bank  account  to  the 
office  at  ten  the  next  morning.  Then  she  went  downstairs 
with  him  to  see  the  old  colonel  who  had  his  eye  on  the 
seals. 

Klaus  Baas  found  a  thick-set,  elderly,  energetic  looking 
fellow  sitting  comfortably  with  his  newspaper.  Recog- 
nizing his  little  neighbor,  he  sprang  up  nimbly.  As  he 
listened  to  them,  he  laughed  gayly,  and  slapped  his  leg  at 
the  idea  of  being  able  to  make  a  deal  at  last.  At  first  he 
wouldn't  hear  of  a  mortgage  ;  it  must  be  nothing  short  of  a 
sale.  But  when  Klaus  threatened  to  dispose  of  the  collec- 
tion elsewhere  that  very  day,  the  old  man,  with  many  de- 
murs, finally  agreed  to  the  mortgage.  He  stipulated, 
however,  that  the  cabinet  was  to  be  left  there  with  him,  un- 
locked. "  He's  such  a  suspicious,  particular  little  chap,"  he 
said  ;  "  he'll  be  worried  to  death  for  fear  I  steal  something. 
And  it's  quite  possible  that  I  may.  Seal  collecting  is  a  good 
deal  like  horse  trading  ;  a  little  swindling  is  allowed."  The 
document  was  drawn  up  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  the 
money  made  over.  Then  Klaus  Baas  took  leave  of  the  old 
gentleman,  who  was  still  laughing  and  scolding  alternately. 
And  outside  on  the  stairs  he  said  good-by  to  the  house- 
keeper, whose  little  face,  in  spite  of  her  fifty  odd  years, 
was  covered  with  a  light  flush. 

He  went  next  to  Altona,  to  find  a  friend  of  his,  a  confi- 
dential employee  of  the  bank  at  home.  He  was  a  man  of 
very  little  education,  who,  through  native  shrewdness  and 
cleverness,  had  attained  a  considerable  fortune.  Luckily 
finding  him  at  home,  Klaus  told  him  what  he  had  under- 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  339 

taken  and  asked  him  for  ten  thousand  marks,  for  which  he 
would  give  his  note.     He  got  the  money. 

From  there,  he  went  to  the  office  on  Katherine  Strasse 
to  telephone  to  his  bank  about  making  over  his  own  funds 
in  ready  money.  He  also  sent  a  message  to  Frau  Eschen 
to  say  how  he  was  getting  along.  Toward  evening  he 
routed  the  partner  out  of  bed,  and  sat  all  night  with  him  and 
the  procurist,  going  over  books,  accounts,  and  letters.  He 
got  a  general  survey  of  the  situation  of  the  firm,  did  a  great 
deal  of  reckoning  and  considering,  and  then  carefully  com- 
posed a  telegram  destined  to  make  the  chief  in  India  realize 
the  state  of  affairs  so  far  as  was  possible.  He  wrote  letters  to 
several  small  pressing  creditors.  No  matter  how  much  he 
tried  to  evade  the  fact,  he  knew  that  money  had  been 
scraped  up  from  every  available  quarter,  and  he  pondered 
whether  there  was  any  possible  way  by  which  he  could  col- 
lect the  fifteen  thousand  marks  still  lacking. 

In  the  course  of  the  morning,  the  anxiously  awaited  sums 
that  he  had  raised  came  gradually  in.  He  stood  at  the 
window  watching,  heavy-eyed, —  it  was  the  second  night 
he  had  not  slept, —  looking  down  the  Fleet  and  up  toward 
the  Nikolai  tower,  invisible  in  the  cloud  and  mist.  As  he 
waited,  he  pondered  how  he  could  raise  the  last  fifteen 
thousand  marks,  and  could  see  no  other  way  than  to  go  to 
A.  W.  Thauler,  or  to  ask  the  bank  for  grace  on  this  bal- 
ance. Both  of  these  courses  offended  his  pride  and  his 
judgment.  A  little  before  twelve,  however,  when  the  rest 
of  the  money  had  all  come  in,  he  put  on  his  coat  to  go  to 
Thauler, 

Just  then,  to  his  great  surprise,  Frau  Eschen  came  into 
the  office.  Her  face  was  very  pale,  and  she  looked  worn 
out  from  lack  of  sleep  and  much  weeping.  She  sat  down, 
exhausted  and  breathless.  Fumbling  in  her  bosom,  she 
brought  out  a  bundle  of  bank-notes,  which  she  laid  on  her 
son's  desk,  beside  which  Klaus  was  standing.  "  I  didn't 
want  to  be  just  crying  and  looking  on  while  you  were 
taking  so  much  trouble  about  our  affairs,"  she  said,  in  a 
deeply  moved  voice,  while  her  mouth  trembled.  "  I  went 
to  see  an  old   acquaintance  of  mine, —  a  man  that  once 


340  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

wanted  to  be  more  closely  related  ;  I  couldn't  do  it,  and 
he  went  away  hurt.  I  have  talked  to  him  now  for  the 
first  time  in  thirty  years.  But  what  wouldn't  a  person  do 
for  children  and  old  days  1  And  he  might  just  as  well  help 
me  ;  I've  had  little  enough  happiness  in  my  married  life  !  " 
Shaking  her  head  at  her  own  emotion  and  weakness,  she 
said  by  way  of  apology  :  "  I've  been  worried  and  up  all 
night.     My  old  mother  is  very  sick  — nearly  dying." 

Klaus  had  respectfully  taken  her  hand.  He  patted  it, 
and  tried  to  cheer  up  the  poor  worn-out  woman  by  telling 
her  how  invaluable  this  last  money  was.  The  first  difficulty 
was  over  now,  he  said,  and  he  believed  that  he  could  put 
the  thing  through.  With  talk  of  this  kind,  he  accompanied 
her,  still  weeping,  to  the  stairs. 

Then  he  sent  the  money  to  the  bank,  and  followed  it 
himself. 

The  two  managers  of  the  bank  were  standing  at  the 
window,  talking  earnestly.  They  were  impolite  enough 
not  to  offer  Klaus  a  chair.  This  robust,  farmer-like  man, 
who  came  to  them  commissioned  by  the  firm  of  H.  C.  Es- 
chen  and  Company,  was  already  known  to  them  very  casu- 
ally by  his  connection  with  the  little  country  bank.  Klaus 
Baas  told  them  that  he  had  got  the  one  hundred  and  forty 
thousand  marks  together,  and  that  after  examination 
he  found  that  the  firm  was  secure.  "You  gentlemen  are 
a  little  sharp  with  H.  C.  Eschen,"  he  went  on  good- 
humoredly. 

The  more  elderly  of  the  two  got  a  little  more  human, 
and  made  several  general  remarks  about  the  condition  of 
the  market,  the  responsibility  of  the  bank,  and  so  on. 

Wishing  to  make  a  good  impression  for  the  firm,  Klaus 
said  reservedly  :  "  It's  an  old  firm,  the  chief  is  abroad,  and 
the  second  partner  is  sick.     All  this  came  as  a  surprise." 

The  younger  man  answered  with  some  sliow  of  respect 
that  they  wanted  to  do  their  part,  but  that  in  times  like 
these  they  had  to  make  sure  whether  a  firm  had  any  back- 
ing of  its  own,  and  how  much. 

Klaus  agreed  to  that  amicably,  thereby  establishing 
himself  and  the  firm  on  the  ground  of  perfect  respectabil- 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  341 

ity.  To  their  discreet  questions,  he  answered  that  he  was 
an  old  friend  of  the  firm  who  happened  to  have  time  to 
devote  a  few  months  to  it.  He  talked  to  them  a  little 
longer  about  the  general  situation,  and  then  left,  hoping 
that  he  had  impressed  these  clever  men,  whose  confidence 
and  regard  he  would  need  later,  as  a  man  who  knew  what 
he  was  about. 

From  there  he  went  to  the  Exchange.  He  told  Herr 
Thauler  and  Herr  Trimborn  that  the  firm  of  H.  C.  Eschen 
had  good  hopes.  Then  he  went  to  several  old  acquaint- 
ances of  his  and  told  them  that  he  had  undertaken  the 
management  of  the  firm  for  several  months,  and  that  the 
firm  was  prepared  to  meet  its  obligations  fully.  Merrily 
and  a  bit  boastfully,  and  under  the  seal  of  silence,  he  told 
an  acquaintance  whom  he  knew  to  be  a  rogue  and  a  chat- 
terer about  the  partner  who  had  gone  fairly  crazy  with 
the  worry  and  confusion,  and  told  how  he  had  dragged 
him  out  of  bed. 

Toward  evening  he  set  off  to  tell  Frau  Eschen  how 
much  had  been  done.  He  was  shown  into  the  front  room 
by  the  maid,  who  had  evidently  received  instructions,  and 
left  alone.  After  a  while  she  came  back  and  told  him 
that  Madame  Eschen  was  very  sick.  Frau  Eschen  would 
like  to  see  him,  however,  if  he  could  wait  a  little  longer. 
When  he  had  waited  a  while  longer,  the  girl  came  back 
and  said  that  Frau  Eschen,  tired  out  from  having  been  up 
all  night,  had  had  a  fainting  fit,  and  that  she  would  like 
him  to  come  into  the  sick-room. 

It  was  the  same  white-curtained  room  where,  ten  years 
before,  the  old  lady  had  sat  at  the  window ;  now  she  was 
lying  there  on  her  bed,  breathing  irregularly,  almost  im- 
perceptibly. Her  daughter-in-law,  sitting  in  a  big  chair 
beside  the  bed,  gave  Klaus  her  hand  in  silent  greeting. 
"  I  tried  to  come  to  you,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  but 
when  I  went  to  get  up  quickly,  my  knees  suddenly  gave 
way.     Otherwise  I  am  all  right." 

He  told  her  his  good  news,  which  she  rewarded  with  a 
long  look  of  heart-felt  esteem  and  gratitude.  Then  he 
asked  her  if  he  could  stay  and  be  of  any  use  to  her. 


342  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

Their  whispered  conversation  awakened  the  old  lady. 
Casting  a  long,  sad,  weary  glance  toward  the  man  at  the 
bedside,  she  asked  him  her  same  old  question,  in  her  high, 
thin  voice,  with  a  sort  of  forced  cheerfulness.  "  Have 
you  seen  my  children,  my  good  sir  ?  "  Without  waiting 
for  an  answer,  however,  she  drowsed  off  again.  Klaus 
Baas  persuaded  Frau  Eschen  to  go  lie  down,  promising 
to  keep  watch  with  her  maid  and  to  call  her  as  soon  as 
there  was  any  change.  The  worn-out  woman  allowed  her- 
self to  be  persuaded,  and  let  the  solicitous  maid  lead  her 
into  the  next  room. 

Then  he  kept  watch  in  the  little  room  for  several  hours, 
now  standing  beside  the  bed  listening  to  the  old  woman's 
breathing,  now  standing  in  front  of  her  old  bookcase  with 
its  red-bound  classics.  He  remembered  having  heard  her 
grandson  tell,  under  the  swaying  punkah  by  the  Indian 
Ocean,  how  this  woman  that  was  now  dying  had,  as  a  child, 
seen  old  Klopstock,  neatly  attired  in  wig  and  knee-breeches, 
in  the  street  at  Altona,  and  how  she  had  called  out  a  childish 
greeting  to  Goethe  in  the  street  at  Weimar  and  had  re- 
ceived a  kindly  greeting  in  return.  But  after  all,  how 
did  this  old  woman  concern  him,  Klaus  Baas  ?  She  had 
had  her  share  of  good  and  evil  in  life,  and  now  she  must 
die.  Now  the  race  was  to  others  —  to  such  as  he  !  He 
must  think  of  his  own  affairs  —  of  his  great  undertaking  ! 
Would  the  day  ever  come  when  he  would  be  one  of  the 
proprietors  of  that  firm  ?  He  went  to  the  bed  and  looked 
down  at  the  dying  woman  again  with  eyes  tired  out  with 
watching. 

As  the  night  advanced,  her  sleep  became  more  restless, 
and  she  mumbled  indistinctly.  The  girl  awakened  Frau 
Eschen,  who  came  in  at  once. 

Bending  over,  she  saw  that  the  sick  woman's  eyes 
looked  clearer  than  they  had  before.  "  Do  you  feel  better, 
mother  ?  "  she  asked.  Receiving  no  answer,  she  became 
alarmed,  and  asked  for  the  lamp. 

The  old  woman  closed  her  eyes,  then  opened  them  again. 
And  in  the  lamplight  they  could  see  an  expression  of  mild 
surprise  and  recognition  on  her  face.     Closing  her  eyes 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  343 

and  opening  them  once  more,  she  asked  in  a  tired,  but 
absolutely  natural  voice :  "  Aren't  you  Marianne,  Karl's 
wife  ?     How  is  it  you  have  gray  hair  ?  " 

With  hot  tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks,  Frau  Eschen 
answered  in  a  trembling  voice,  "  Yes,  mother,  do  you 
know  me  ?  " 

The  old  lady  looked  hard  at  the  counterpane  as  if  she 
were  looking  for  something  that  she  could  not  find.  Then, 
raising  her  eyes  slowly,  she  said  in  her  old  weak  voice,  in 
an  unspeakably  dubious,  hesitating  tone,  "How  is  the  firm 
getting  along  ?  " 

"  It's  all  right  still,  mother." 

"  But  where  is  my  husband  ?  " 

"  He  died  long  ago,  mother." 

She  stared  at  the  counterpane  again,  hunting  around 
with  restless,  groping  hands.     Then  she  looked  up  again. 

"  Where  is  my  son  Edward  ?  " 

"  He  died  a  long  time  ago,  mother.  He  was  lost  with 
the  frigate  Frauenloh.'''' 

The  old  woman  looked  up  again,  this  time  with  more 
assurance. 

"  But  where  is  my  son  Karl,  your  husband  ?  " 

"  He  died  a  long  time  ago,  too,  mother,"  answered  Frau 
Eschen,  weeping. 

The  old  lady's  head  sank  still  lower,  and  her  trembling 
hands  groped  among  the  covers.  "  You  have  four  children, 
haven't  you  ?  "  she  said,  in  a  lower  voice. 

"  Yes,  mother,  but  two  of  them  are  dead.  Gertrude 
died  in  Mexico,  and  Karl  in  India.  The  two  that  are 
living  are  away." 

The  old  lady  looked  down  again,  and  lay  there  tired 
and  silent.  Finally  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  great  weariness, 
but  of  sublime,  almost  august  composure,  "  Since  they  are 
all  gone,  I  will  go  too."  She  tried  to  clasp  her  daugh- 
ter's hand,  but  could  not.  Then  she  fell  asleep,  and  lay 
there,  breathing  more  and  more  gently,  until  she  passed 
away. 

Then  Klaus  Baas  left  the  house  and  went  through  the 
streets  in  the  gray  dawn  toward  his  mother's. 


344  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

She  was  already  working  away  by  lamplight,  sitting 
among  heaps  of  materials.  She  was  in  her  sixties  now, 
and  was  gray-haired,  but  she  was  still  as  harsh  as  when 
she  drove  him  home  from  the  churchyard  with  the  tongs. 
On  the  day  he  left  the  little  town  he  had  written  her 
about  the  change  in  his  married  life  and  his  prospects. 
She  received  him  now  as  she  always  had  since  he  grew  up 
—  with  the  scorn  that  his  confidence  in  himself  and  his 
ambition,  the  traditional  Baas  failings,  always  prompted 
in  her.  "  Well,  so  they  turned  you  out  up  there,"  she 
said.     "I  suspected  that's  what  would  happen." 

He  laughed  at  what  she  said,  and  at  her  usual  distrust- 
ful tone.  "  But  think  of  the  experiences  I've  had  since 
then,"  he  said,  "and  of  all  the  places  I've  been  1  " 

"They've  probably  turned  you  out  everywhere,"  she 
said,  "and  that's  why  you've  come  to  me." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it  —  they  received  me  well  everywhere  I 
went,"  he  answered.  "  At  Peter's,  at  —  well,  I  can't  tell 
you  that  —  but  everywhere  I  went,  they  treated  me  fine. 
All  day  and  all  night  yesterday  I  was  working  for  H.  C. 
Eschen  ;  the  firm  was  in  a  critical  state.  I  —  I  put  it  on 
its  feet  again.  Well,  then  —  what  now,  mother  ?  "  He 
sat  down  opposite  her,  laid  his  clenched  hand  on  the  table, 
and  looked  at  her  with  tired,  passionate  eyes. 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  surprise  and 
scornful  severity.  "You  had  your  nose  in  the  sand  a 
minute  ago,  and  now  you're  up  on  the  heights  again 
already  !  " 

He  looked  at  her  steadily,  with  his  eyes  half  closed. 
"  I've  prospered  famously  in  the  last  three  days,  mother," 
he  said  ;  "  in  scorn  and  harshness,  in  generosity  and  pride, 
in  loyalty  and  self-interest.  I've  been  in  the  bed  of  a 
beautiful  girl,  and  at  the  death-bed  of  a  gray  old  woman. 
I've  had  experiences  of  every  sort,  mother  I  I  have  all 
my  father's  kindliness  and  joy  in  life,  and  all  your  severity, 
masterfulness,  and  energy.  And  I've  let  all  the  qualities 
that  were  born  in  me  play  out.  If  a  man  doesn't  do  that, 
mother,  he  doesn't  get  anywhere.  If  he  can't  play  his 
own  fiddle,  how  will  he  get  others  to  play  with  him  ?  " 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  345 

She  answered  him  with  a  severe,  almost  gloomy  look. 
"  How  can  you  be  so  noisy,  and  in  such  high  spirits,  if 
you've  just  come  from  a  death-bed  ?  " 

"How  does  that  affect  me,  mother?"  he  said  coldly.  "  I 
didn't  do  it  for  the  sake  of  the  dead.  I  did  it  for  myself. 
What  do  the  dead  matter  to  me  !  " 

"  Exactly  !  "  she  said  drearily.  "  They  mean  nothing 
to  you  !  And  I  —  I  think  of  them  day  and  night  ! " 
With  a  sudden  movement,  she  put  her  hands  to  her  eyes 
and  wejit  bitterly.  Then  recovering  herself  quickly,  she 
told  him  to  go  to  bed. 

He  stroked  her  smooth  gray  hair.  In  a  tone  that  was 
quieter,  but  still  firm,  he  said:  "Good night, mother.  I'm 
unspeakably  tired,"  and  with  uneven,  almost  staggering, 
steps,  he  went  out  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

The  task  he  had  undertaken  was  no  easy  one;  sometimes, 
indeed,  he  thought  that  he  couldnot  see  it  through.  He  con- 
trived to  write  letters  to  India  which  plainly,  yet  discreetly, 
made  clear  that  they  had  been  on  the  point  of  failing. 
He  said  that  they  had  all  really  been  in  despair,  but  that 
the  firm  was  now  safe  for  the  present — not  only  its  funds, 
but  also,  owing  to  tactful  management,  its  business 
reputation.  Klaus  also  went  through  some  difficult 
moments  when  he  read  the  answers  from  India,  and,  as  a 
result  of  them,  had  for  a  second  time  to  establish  this  or 
that  point,  with  great  discretion  to  be  sure,  but  with 
a  good  deal  of  confidence  in  his  own  management  as  well. 

He  had  got  considerably  out  of  touch  with  things  in 
these  six  years  ;  many  things  had  changed  or  had  been 
entirely  replaced.  He  had  to  ask  many  questions,  and 
look  up  a  great  many  places.  He  had  more  to  do  than 
other  men,  and  he  worked  more  slowly.  It  ^  took 
weeks  for  him  to  get  a  satisfactory  grip  on  the  business. 
The  partner  continued  to  be  ailing  and  apprehensive, 
and  was  away  for  a  great  part  of  the  time. 

There  were  some  hard  months,  when  the  light  in  the 
office  on  Katherine  Strasse  burned  far  into  the  night. 
Lying  on  the  hard  bed  he  had  had  put  up  for  him  in  the 
merchandise  room,  unable  to  sleep,  Klaus  kept  getting 
more  and  more  sure  that  he  had  ruined  not  only  his 
little  fortune,  but  his  reputation  and  his  future  as  well. 
In  hours  like  these  he  complained  bitterly  of  his  fate. 
Hadn't  his  childhood  and  youth  been  ten  times  harder  than 
that  of  children  of  well-to-do  parents  ?  And  hadn't  he  meant 
to  help  his  dead  friend's  mother?  And  now  to  go  to 
pieces   doing   it !     But   when   morning  came  he  tackled 

346 


KLAUS   HINRICH    BAAS  347 

with  wisdom  and  despatch  the  difficult  problems  that  came 
up  daily.  He  sent  to  India  letters  full  of  calm  assurances 
and  cautious  proposals,  in  order  to  keep  Arthur  Eschen 
away  as  long  as  possible.  To  the  partner  he  said  continu- 
ally, "  Come  now,  you're  looking  bad  again.  Go  on  out 
and  take  a  walk."  He  wanted  to  keep  him  away  from 
the  business,  and  at  the  same  time  to  keep  his  good-will. 

Sometimes  he  went  to  report  to  Frau  Eschen.  He  would 
have  liked  to  spend  all  his  spare  time  among  the  familiar 
pictures  with  the  lonely  woman  whose  talk  showed  so  much 
sound  common  sense.  But  reasoning  that  he  ought  to  hold 
back  a  little,  he  went  there  only  once  a  week.  He  talked 
to  her  respectfully  and  spontaneously,  in  the  way  that  be- 
came a  real  Baas  best;  and  every  time  she  welcomed  him 
cordially,  talking  to  him  about  the  business  situation,  about 
the  return  of  her  son  and  his  wife,  about  her  dead,  and 
about  his  early  life.  Attracted  by  his  discretion,  she  gradu- 
ally became  more  confidential,  and  one  day  brought  out 
the  family  photographs  to  show  him.  Holding  in  his  hand 
two  photographs,  one  of  Gertrude  at  twelve  and  one  of 
Sanna  at  six,  he  told  her  about  his  own  childhood,  —  how 
he  had  cleaned  the  brushes,  and  how  Gertrude  had  planted 
her  foot  on  his  neck,  and  how  he  had  warmed  little  Sauna's 
bottle.  She  smiled  tearfully,  looked  at  the  pictures,  then 
at  him,  and  recalled  that  the  children  had  talked  about 
him.  She  got  up  to  get  the  picture  Sanna  had  sent  from 
England.  "  Sanna  is  a  little  precocious,"  she  said,  as  she 
praised  her  daughter's  healthy,  straightforward  nature, 
"  just  like  all  the  rest  of  my  children.  I  suppose  it  comes 
from  my  having  made  companions  of  them  when  they  were 
so  young.  But  really,  I  don't  know  what  would  have  be- 
come of  me  if  I  hadn't."  Much  moved,  Klaus  looked  at  the 
small  oval  face,  with  its  strong  mouth  and  big  bright 
eyes,  which  showed  soul  as  well  as  cleverness.  Slowly 
handing  it  back  to  the  mother,  he  said,  "  She's  getting 
more  like  her  mother  all  the  time."  Then,  by  an  un- 
conscious association  of  ideas,  he  began  to  tell  her  about 
his  past,  and  especially  about  his  marriage. 

As  he  left,  he  felt  pleased  that  she  had  been  so  cordial; 


348  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

then  he  immediately  began  to  torment  himself  by  imagin- 
ing that  she  had  not  been  cordial  enough,  that  after  all 
she  did  not  regard  him  as  one  of  her  own  class.  He 
thought  that  he  had  noticed  a  great  difference  lately  in 
the  way  she  treated  a  young  man  of  her  acquaintance 
who  had  called  on  her  while  Klaus  was  there.  He  thought 
that  she  had  shown  herself  more  at  ease  with  the  confident 
young  man,  who  chatted  along  so  easily  about  many  of 
their  common  acquaintances,  and  who  asked  for  "  Sanna  " 
in  the  most  natural  way  in  the  world.  Gloomy  and 
discontented,  he  brooded  angrily  over  it  all.  How  Frau 
Eschen  would  look,  he  thought,  if  he  were  to  win  Sanna 
some  day  !  And  then  think  of  her  brother,  and  that 
elegant  creature,  his  wife  !  Of  course  he'd  be  likely  to 
pass  with  Sanna  herself  !  No  doubt  of  it.  What  a  face 
she  had  —  and  those  big  bright  eyes.  He  remembered 
her  as  she  had  been  —  full  of  life,  composed,  and  wilful. 
She  was  a  real  woman  ;  and  he  —  well,  he  was  a  real 
man,  and  he  knew  what  calls  out  a  woman's  love.  She 
would  see  it  —  she  is  lovely  and  healthy,  he  thought. 
But  what  good,  after  all,  will  that  do  me  :  I've  got  to 
bear  the  burden  of  my  different  childhood,  and  of  the 
fact  that  I'm  not  a  man  of  "  family." 

On  a  dull  day  in  December,  Arthur  Eschen  and  his 
wife  returned  from  India. 

The  aristocratic,  somewhat  frail-looking  man  showed  a 
sort  of  English  coolness  and  indolence  which  was  rather  a 
matter  of  speech  and  movement,  perhaps,  than  of  charac- 
ter. He  was  uncertain  just  how  to  treat  this  robust, 
business-like  man,  who  possessed  such  manifest  composure, 
discretion,  and  breadth  of  view.  He  realized  that  this 
man  had  kept  together  his  fortune  and  his  business 
standing  at  a  time  when  all  his  own  family  had  lost  their 
heads,  and  when  he  himself,  the  responsible  member,  had 
calmly  gone  abroad  without  taking  into  account  the 
possibility  of  hard  times.  With  not  too  much  cordiality, 
he  told  Klaus  Baas  that  by  a  strange  chance  he  had  again 
played  a  part  in  the  fortunes  of  the  famil}-.  Going  on  to 
speak  of  the  business  side  of  the  matter,  which  was  "  not 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  349 

without  its  difficulties,"  he  proposed  a  temporary  arrange- 
ment by  which  Klaus  Baas  should  receive  a  small  fixed 
salary,  a  definite  share  of  the  profits,  and  a  good  interest  for 
the  money  he  had  put  into  the  business.  Nothing  was 
said  about  making  Klaus  procurist.  The  arrangement  was 
rather  provisional,  but  Klaus  thought  it  wise  to  accept  it 
for  the  present  without  more  ado. 

The  arrival  of  the  chief  made  a  great  deal  of  new  work. 
It  was  evident  that  he  himself  had  been  busy  over  in 
India.  During  the  first  part  of  the  time,  which  he  spent 
at  Singapore,  it  was  true  that  not  much  had  happened. 
But  the  sinister  telegram,  sent  off  to  him  early  on  the 
morning  of  the  seventh  of  March,  had  spurred  to  action 
all  his  native  business  capacity.  Up  to  this  time  the  firm 
had  been  sending  out  all  kinds  of  manufactured  wares ; 
but  now  Herr  Eschen  had  assured  himself  that  of  late 
there  had  been  a  demand  for  metals  too,  and  that  there 
was  a  good  chance  for  business  in  that  line.  He  set  out 
to  make  the  same  attempt  his  father  had  once  made  with 
some  result  —  namely,  to  include  in  his  business  the  raw 
materials,  the  tin,  copper,  and  spices  to  be  found  there. 
With  this  end  in  view,  he  contrived  a  new  arrangement 
with  a  firm  in  Singapore.  In  the  accomplishment  of 
things  of  this  sort  the  winter  passed.  The  associate 
partner,  who  was  still  ailing,  and  who  seemed  not  to  have 
recovered  from  the  shock  he  had  had  in  the  spring,  by  a 
tacit  understanding  with  Klaus  Baas  withdrew  more  and 
more  from  the  actual  work  and  the  councils  of  the  firm. 
And  at  his  desk,  near  the  door  of  the  main  office,  sat 
Klaus  Baas,  very  reserved,  very  discreet  in  word  and  deed. 
And  well  he  might  be,  for  he  did  not  know  in  the  least 
whether  he  would  be  left  sitting  there,  or  whether  some 
day,  when  Arthur  Eschen  had  got  his  hand  in  again,  and 
had  perhaps  found  more  money  and  a  new  man,  he  would 
not  be  sent  away  with  his  little  capital,  a  "very  reason- 
able recompense,"  and  many  thanks.  Klaus  did  not  like 
the  prospect.  To  be  compelled  to  relinquish  this  plan 
now,  when  he  was  thirty-two,  might  have  unfortunate 
consequences  for  him.       If  it  happened,  he  could  do  one 


350  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

of  two  things  :  either  take  Herr  Arthur  Eschen's  recom- 
mendation and  look  around  for  a  place  as  manager  or 
bookkeeper,  or  hunt  up  a  partner  and  establish  a  little 
firm  of  his  own  with  small  capital,  little  credit,  and  slight 
reputation. 

Twice  in  the  course  of  the  winter  he  was  invited  to  the 
handsome  house  in  Harvestehude,  where  he  was  courte- 
ously received,  and  with  cordial  slaps  on  the  back  pre- 
sented to  the  gentlemen  there  as  "  Herr  Baas,  who  helped 
us  out  while  I  was  away."  Klaus  realized  that  the  wife 
regarded  him  merely  as  a  bookkeeper  who  had  happened  to 
be  out  of  work  and  who  had  made  good  in  this  opportu- 
nity, —  in  short,  as  a  man  whom  circumstances  made  it 
necessary  for  her  to  honor  with  an  invitation.  He  ob- 
served, too,  that  she  went  out  of  her  way  to  entertain  a 
certain  man  who,  he  had  heard,  had  a  very  considerable 
capital  and  who  was  desirous  of  going  into  some  good 
business. 

Thinking  of  all  this,  Klaus  often  went  home  to  his 
mother  in  a  bad  temper.  And  she,  as  usual,  humbled  him 
still  more.  "  Well,  I  guess  you've  sat  down  in  the  net- 
tles again,"  she  would  say,  with  her  scornful  little  laugh, 
which,  however,  as  she  grew  older,  showed  a  suspicion  of 
kindliness.  "  You're  always  full  of  grand  schemes,  and 
then  suddenly  you  find  that  there's  a  leak  somewhere. 
That's  the  way  it  was  when  you  hurried  home  from  the 
barge  in  the  Hamburg  harbor,  and  when  you  went  to 
Heisterberg  to  get  married  to  Suse  Garbens,  and  when 
you  came  home  from  India,  and  again  last  year.  That's 
the  way  it's  going  to  be  again."  And  she  looked  him  up 
and  down  with  her  steady  gray  eyes  as  if  she  already  saw 
him  going  around  threadbare. 

Then  he  grew  a  bit  boastful.  "  Well,  haven't  I  done 
pretty  well?  Why,  if  I  want  to,  I  can  buy  a  farm  in  Heis- 
terberg now.  Has  there  ever  been  a  Baas  that  had  as  much 
money  at  thirty-two  as  I  have  —  or  one  that's  got  up  as 
far?     Look  at  me.     And  some  day  I'm  going  to  be  —  " 

"  Some  day  you're  going  to  be  a  senator,"  she  said,  with 
a  nod,  bending  her  calm  gray  eyes  upon  him. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  351 

Then  he  broke  out  laughing,  and  went  up  to  her  and 
patted  her  cheek.  His  bit  of  boasting  cheered  him  up 
and  put  him  in  a  good  humor. 

Hanna,  whose  head,  with  its  wealth  of  straight  bright 
hair,  peeped  out  above  her  heap  of  school-books,  looked 
smilingly  at  the  two,  who  had  such  a  queer  way  of  show- 
ing how  fond  they  were  of  each  other. 

But  when  Klaus  went  to  bed  at  night  he  fell  to  think- 
ing again  about  what  he  could  do  to  prevent  his  being 
forced  out  of  the  road  to  success  on  which  he  was  now. 
Young  Fran  Eschen  was  no  friend  of  his,  that  was  plain. 
And  Arthur  Eschen  was  pretty  well  under  his  wife's  in- 
fluence.    The  mother,  Frau  Marianne   Eschen,  was  cer- 
tainly well  disposed  toward  him  ;  but  he  did  not  feel  at 
all  certain  that  her  good-will    would   go   far   enough  to 
make  her  want  him,  with  his  little  capital,  as  a  partner  in 
the  firm,  simply  because  the  firm  needed  a  good  business 
man.     It  was  perfectly  true  that  Arthur  Eschen's  zeal  for 
work  did  not  go  very  far,  and  that  it  was  falling  off  again, 
now  that  he  was  back  in  the  social  life  of  Hamburg.    And 
even  if  Frau  Eschen  wanted  it,  she  couldn't  bring  it  to 
pass  if  her  son  opposed  it.     That  was  the  way  the  thing 
stood,  —  and  it  looked  bad.     When  he  had  thought  it  out 
up  to  that  point,  he  recalled  Sanna  Eschen's  big,  sparkling 
eyes,  which  he  studied  now  and  then  in  the  picture  that 
stood  on  the  table  under  the  old  oil    paintings.     Those 
shining  eyes,  so  strangely  clear  and  independent,  seemed 
to  say,  "I  know  very  well  what  I  want!"     Well,  what 
did  she  want,  —  that  serious,  intelligent  girl  of  twenty- 
three?     She  must  have  received  some  offer  or  other  al- 
ready.    But  it  could  not  have  come  from  a  real  man  —  a 
wise,  capable  fellow,  superior  to  her.     For  a  man  like  that 
she  was  still  waiting,  —  composedly,  if  a  little  impatiently. 
The  next  Sunday,  when  he  went  as  usual  to  see  Frau 
Eschen  between  five  and  six,  and  asked  casually  for  Frau- 
lein  Sanna,  she  laughingly  handed  him  a  letter  which  she 
had  received  from  her  the  day  before.     In  the  bold,  free 
handwriting  which  was  coming  to  be  used  by  the  girls  of 
that  time  —  for  this  was  the  time  when  girls  were  getting 


352  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

more  freedom,  and  when  the  best  of  them  were  coming  to 
be  personalities,  even  in  their  youth  —  Fraulein  Sanna 
told  all  kinds  of  things  in  a  direct,  refreshing  way.  She 
had  an  opinion  to  pass  on  everything  she  had  seen  or 
heard.  Then  she  said  that  she  was  glad  she  was  going 
to  be  home  with  her  own  dear  mother  in  a  month.  At 
the  very  last  she  wrote,  "  What's  all  this  about  your  Klaas 
Hinrich  Baas?  Gracious,  just  think  how  a  person  can 
change  !  Has  he  still  got  that  head  of  mole-colored  hair  ? 
That  was  the  only  nice  thing  about  him." 

Klaus  laughed  heartily.  "She's  a  great  rogue,"  he 
said.     "  I  must  see  that  she  respects  me." 

"  I  think  she  does  now,"  her  mother  said,  "  and  that's 
the  reason  she's  bantering  you." 

"  I  would  ask  you  to  remember  me  to  the  young  lady,  if 
she  weren't  so  impolite.     Please  tell  her  that." 

So,  he  thought,  Sanna  Eschen  was  coming  back  from 
England,  and  was  interesting  herself  in  him  !  Sanna 
Eschen  could  help  him  ! 

He  conducted  himself  with  great  wisdom  and  discretion 
in  the  office,  in  order  to  keep  his  relations  with  the  Eschen 
firm  in  their  present  condition.  The  days  slipped  by 
slowly.  During  the  day  he  had  no  time  to  think  of 
anything  but  work,  but  when  night  came  he  walked 
home  slowly  and  silently,  often  taking  a  roundabout  way 
over  the  Lombards-Briicke,  always  picturing  to  himself 
the  future.  It  is  not  unusual  for  men  of  strong  will  and 
independent  nature,  when  they  are  not  satisfied  with  the 
particular  people  and  forces  that  are  controlling  their  lives 
at  the  time,  to  calmly  —  and  naively  —  draw  for  suste- 
nance upon  the  whole  world  outside  them,  and  by  their 
own  will,  associate  themselves  with  the  life  and  will  of 
the  great  world.  So  it  was  with  Klaus  Baas.  Wrinkling 
his  brow,  he  managed  to  convince  himself  more  and  more 
each  day  that  Sanna  Eschen  existed  for  him,  Avas  coming 
home  for  him,  in  order  that  his  life  might  proceed 
smoothly,  as  it  ought.  And  oh,  what  a  life  it  would  be 
then ! 

One   evening,   as    he    was    walking    home    pondering 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  353 

and    dreaming,    as    usual,    he    was    brought    to    himself 
suddenly. 

Just  as  he  was  about  to  go  with  one  bound  up  the  steps 
in  the  Wex  Strasse,  he  spied  Kalli  Dau  coming  down  from 
upstairs. 

They  had  not  seen  each  other  for  six  years,  and  had 
not  heard  from  each  other  very  often.  Since  Kalli  Dau 
had  left  as  mate  for  the  Chinese  coast,  he  had  sent  a  post 
card  to  Hauna  now  and  then,  and  she  had  answered  it. 
Kalli  Dau's  communications  had  been  something  like  this: 
he  had  just  come  ashore  and  was  sitting  around  in  the 
taverns.  And  feeling  kind  of  bored,  and  happening  to 
see  a  picture  post  card,  he  happened  to  think  he  would 
drop  her  a  line.  He  asked  how  she  was,  and  how  her 
mother  and  Klaus  were.  Then  he  signed  himself,  at  first 
as  second  officer,  then  as  first  officer,  and  finally,  a  year 
before,  as  Karl  Dau,  Captain,  S.S.  Amoy.  Then  Hanna 
answered  something  like  this:  the  long-tailed  parrots  were 
still  in  the  corner  of  the  room;  they  were  all  well;  her 
big  brother  was  engaged  in  importing  and  selling  wood  in 
a  Holstein  town.  Then  in  her  neat,  teacherly  hand,  she 
signed  herself,  Hanna  Baas,  teacher  in  the  Sixth  Public 
School. 

Grasping  each  other's  shoulders,  Kalli  and  Klaus  shook 
each  other  in  great  joy,  each  exclaiming  how  well  the 
other  was  looking.  Klaus  Baas  tried  to  get  his  friend  to 
go  to  the  flat  with  him  again,  but  he  could  not  persuade 
him  to.  Suddenly  looking  downcast,  Kalli  explained,  "I 
brought  in  a  steamer  to  be  repaired,  thinking  that  I  could 
stay  here  for  eight  weeks;  but  here  they  told  me  at  the 
office  yesterday  that  they  were  going  to  give  me  the  new 
steamer,  that's  waiting  here,  booked  to  sail  on  Sunday. 
Of  course  I've  got  to  take  it.  So  off  I  go  again  on  Sunday. 
And  now  I'm  awfully  worried  about  one  thing  —  you 
know  I  haven't  got  any  brothers  and  sisters  here  any 
more.  But  my  mother's  still  here,  and  I  saw  her  yester- 
day, but  not  to  speak  to."  With  his  keen  dark  e3'es  stand- 
ing out  in  his  thin  brown  face,  he  looked  up  and  down 
the  street,  as  if  he  were  completely  at  a  loss. 
2a 


354  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

"  If  you  would  like  to  have  me,  Kalli,"  Klaus  said,  "  I 
can  go  with  you." 

Kalli  said  nothing,  and  they  walked  together  toward 
the  Jungfernstieg. 

They  went  up  Berg  Strasse  to  the  place  where  the  two 
big  flower  shops  are.  It  was  about  seven  o'clock,  and  as 
the  evening  was  fine,  the  street  was  full  of  people.  Sud- 
denly Kalli  Dau  seized  his  friend's  arm  and  pointed  over 
to  the  corner  where  the  Commetersche  House  now  stands. 
"  Look  there,"  he  cried,  "  look  !  " 

Looking  over,  Klaus  Baas  saw  her  there.  And  as  he 
looked  at  her,  he  realized  that  in  passing  before  he  had 
thought  that  she  looked  familiar.  She  had  grown  old, 
and  had  fallen-  away  greatly,  but  she  still  wore  a  gay 
waist,  and  had  the  same  restless  way  of  moving  her  head. 
She  stood  there,  holding  out  bunches  of  flowers  to  the 
passers-by,  rather  pertinaciousl}',  it  seemed,  for  every  now 
and  then  some  one  gave  her  an  impatient  look,  as  he  re- 
fused her.  They  stood  there  for  a  while,  looking  over  at 
her.  Finally  the  old  woman,  after  looking  up  and  down 
the  street,  and  making  up  her  mind  that  the  thickest  part 
of  the  crowd  had  passed,  gave  up  business,  put  the  bouquet 
she  had  had  in  her  hand  into  the  basket  with  the  rest, 
picked  the  basket  up,  and  tottered  slowly  off  up  the  Berg 
Strasse,  muttering  to  herself  as  she  went.  Klaus  and 
Kalli  followed  in  silence. 

They  walked  along  to  the  Fischmarkt,  and  from  there 
down  the  Brandstwiete.  Not  far  from  the  Dovenfleet  she 
went  down  into  one  of  the  beer  cellars  which  are  numerous 
there.  Kalli  and  Klaus,  looking  in  at  the  uncurtained 
window,  saw  her  pass  through  the  long  smoky  room  filled 
with  guests,  till  she  came  to  the  bar,  where  she  sat  down 
in  a  corner. 

Then  they  went  in  too,  sat  down  near  the  door,  and 
ordered  a  glass  of  beer.  Next  to  them  three  Malay  sailors, 
their  dark  faces  surmounted  by  the  usual  red  fez,  were 
trying  to  tell  the  fat  landlady,  in  broken  English,  what 
they  wanted.  Asking  them  a  few  questions  in  Malay, 
Klaus   found  out  from  the  grinning  fellows  what  they 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  355 

wanted,  —  rice,  curry,  and  whiskey.  Farther  down  the 
room  there  were  all  kinds  of  dock-hands,  scullers,  in- 
spectors, and  trimmers.  In  front  of  the  bar  was  a  table- 
ful of  drunken  trimmers  in  the  midst  of  a  noisy  game  of 
cards.  All  the  people  there  were  rather  a  bad  lot.  Cap- 
tain Dau  looked  silently  over  the  noisy  crowd,  and  now 
and  then  took  a  good  look  at  the  crooked  old  woman  up 
near  the  bar. 

Klaus  Baas  got  up,  went  through  the  people  to  the  bar, 
and  sat  down  on  a  chair  beside  her. 

Looking  up  from  her  glass  of  kiimmel,  she  started  a 
little  when  she  saw  the  dignified  looking  gentleman. 
Then,  raising  her  glass,  she  gave  him  an  arch  smile,  and 
took  a  sip. 

"  I  saw  you  sitting  here,"  Klaus  said  easily.  "  I  knew 
you  when  I  was  a  boy  and  lived  in  Rademachersgang. 
How  is  your  son  —  Kalli,  his  name  is,  isn't  it  ?  " 

She  nodded  to  him  again  just  as  archly,  and  whispered, 
as  if  she  were  telling  some  secret :  "  He's  a  fine  boy  ! 
Very  fine,  I  tell  you,"  and  she  laughed  to  herself.  "  He 
sends  me  fifty  marks  every  month  —  every  blessed  month. 
For  that  I  get  a  place  to  sleep  in  upstairs  here  and  some- 
thing to  eat.  But  I  need  a  little  pure  religion,  too,"  she 
went  on,  winking  slyly  and  pointing  to  her  glass,  "  and 
that's  why  I  have  the  flower  business." 

"  Where  are  the  other  children  ?  "  asked  Klaus  Baas. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  I  really  don't  know,  my  dear 
sir."  She  stared  as  if  she  were  considering.  "Let  me 
see  —  one  of  them  died  when  he  was  sixteen — the  others 
—  I  really  don't  know  where  they  are.  I  guess  they 
must  be  in  America.     I  don't  know." 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  see  your  son  Karl  again,  mother 
Dau  ?  " 

Quick  as  a  flash  she  laid  her  thin  old  hand  on  his  arm, 
bent  her  gray  head  nearer,  looked  at  him  anxiously,  with 
wide  open  eyes,  and  whispered,  as  if  afraid  her  son  were 
there  to  hear,  "  No  !  I  wouldn't  1  I  certainly  wouldn't ! 
I  don't  tell  my  name  to  a  soul  in  this  room.  Every  once 
in  a  while  there's  some  one  here  that's  going  to  China.    It 


356  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

would  be  a  pretty  business  if  some  one  should  tell  him 
that  his  old  mother  drinks  and  sells  flowers  on  the  street. 
Why,  he's  a  captain  now !  Captain  Dau !  I'm  often 
afraid,  I  tell  you,  when  I'm  standing  there  on  the  street 
with  my  flowers.  I  keep  thinking,  suppose  he  should 
come  along  and  say,  '  What  are  you  doing  standing 
there  ? '  Please  don't  write  to  him  that  you  saw  me  here, 
my  dear  sir  !  "  She  smiled,  quite  easy  and  confidential 
once  more.  "  You  see,  I  have  a  place  to  sleep  upstairs 
here,  but  every  evening  when  I  come  home  I  sit  here  with 
my  glass  two  hours  or  so  first." 

Klaus  Baas  got  up  and  went  back  to  Captain  Dau. 
"  She's  just  the  same,  Kalli,"  he  said.  "  There  isn't  any- 
thing you  can  do.  It  will  be  better  for  you  both  not  to 
see  each  other  again." 

Kalli  Dau  got  up  and  went  out,  Klaus  Baas  following 
him. 

They  walked  along  together  silently  toward  Wex 
Strasse.  Not  until  they  were  crossing  the  Ellerntor- 
Briicke  did  Kalli  Dau  look  up  and  gaze  around  him. 
On  the  right  the  streets  stretched  in  the  evening  sunlight 
toward  the  Alster ;  on  the  left  stood  St.  Michael's  tower, 
—  mighty,  strong,  and  beautiful,  looking  as  if  it  were 
shedding  every  suspicion  of  sorrow.  "  I've  always  been 
awfully  fond  of  Hamburg,"  said  Kalli  Dau,  "but  now  it 
seems  to  me  as  if  she  were  standing  on  every  corner  and 
coming  out  of  every  beer  cellar." 

Klaus  Baas  could  only  say,  "  It  won't  last  much  longer, 
Kalli ;  she's  very  much  aged.  I  promise  you  I'll  look  after 
her  now  and  then.  If  she  gets  sick  she'll  be  looked  after 
all  right." 

Kalli  Dau  walked  on,  thinking  abstractedly.  But  grad 
ually  his  heavy  step  became  somewhat  lighter,  and  he  began 
to  walk  in  his  usual  easy  way,  looking  all  around  him  as 
if  he  might  at  any  moment  strike  up  a  little  conversation 
with  one  of  the  passers-by.  Finally  he  said,  quite  in  his 
old  confident,  good-humored  way,  "  As  soon  as  1  came  from 
the  office  yesterday  I  hurried  up  to  your  mother's.  I 
haven't  any  other  friends  here.     When  I  was  going  up 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  357 

the  steps  I  met  Hanna,  just  coming  home  from  school 
with  her  books.  I  turned  her  and  her  books  right  around 
and  walked  to  the  Alster  with  her.  We  walked  around 
once,  and  then  we  rode  around  once.  We  did  that  yester- 
day, and  again  to-day,  and  it  was  very  nice." 

Klaus  Baas  listened  in  amazement.  "  She  didn't  say  a 
word  about  it  to  mother  or  me,"  he  said. 

"  I  told  her  not  to,"  said  Kalli  Dau.  "  If  I  went 
around  the  world  without  asking  leave  when  I  was  fifteen, 
I  guess  she  can  go  around  the  Alster  without  asking 
leave  when  she's  twenty-six.  Do  you  happen  to  know 
whether  she's  got  a  sweetheart  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  she  has,"  answered  Klaus. 

"  I  was  only  thinking,"  said  Kalli  Dau,  "  that  if  she 
hadn't  any  other  —  then  perhaps  some  day  it  might  be 
possible  — " 

"  Have  you  said  anything  to  her  about  it  ? "  asked 
Klaus  Baas. 

"  Not  a  word  !  I've  only  talked  to  her  a  little  bit  — 
about  anything  that  came  up  —  Hamburg  and  China  and 
so  on.  And  then  I  told  her  all  kinds  of  stories  about 
what  can  happen  to  you.  If  she  just  isn't  too  refined  and 
hasn't  too  much  book-learning,  Klaus  !  " 

Klaus  Baas  shook  his  head.  "  I'd  just  advise  you  to  go 
about  it  cautiously,"  he  said. 

Kalli  Dau  nodded  and  considered  awhile.  Finally  he 
broke  out,  "Just  do  me  the  favor  to  see  that  your  mother 
stays  in  the  sewing  I'oom  so  that  I  can  speak  to  her  alone. 
I  don't  mean  any  disrespect  to  your  mother,  but  her  eyes 
are  too  sharp  for  me." 

Laughing,  Klaus  Baas  followed  Kalli  up  the  stairs. 

As  they  went  into  the  flat,  Klaus  Baas  called  Kalli's 
attention  to  a  low  humming  behind  the  closed  door  of  the 
dark  room  that  opened  on  the  court.  "  Well,  she  seems 
to  be  in  a  good  humor,"  he  said,  "  I  guess  her  walk  with 
you  didn't  cast  her  down,  anyway." 

Kalli  Dau  knocked,  and  they  heard  a  cheery  "  Come  in." 

"  You'd  better  come  along,"  said  Kalli,  and  they  both 
went  in. 


358  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

Sitting  with  her  hand  in  her  lap  in  front  of  a  pile  of 
exercise  books  she  had  been  correcting,  Hanna  seemed  to 
be  engaged  in  thought.  The  kind  eyes  she  had  inherited 
from  her  father,  her  dainty  plumpness,  and  the  exquisite 
neatness  that  had  once  made  her  take  such  an  interest  in 
the  chimney-sweep,  all  exactly  corresponded  to  her  pretty 
name,  Hanna  Baas. 

"  Well,  so  this  is  where  you  live,  is  it  ?  "  said  Kalli  Dau, 
as  he  shook  hands  and  sat  down.     "  Well,  upon  my  word, 
if  there  aren't  the  two  parrots  !  "     Taking  up  one  of  the 
note-books  from  the  pile,  he  turned  it  over  and  looked  in- 
side.    "  Well,     let's    see     what    subject    you    assigned. 
Major  von  Tellheim  —  don't  know  him,  I'm  sure.     But  I 
did  know  a  Tellwein  or  Tellstein  or  something  like  that," 
he  said,  leaning  back  comfortably.     "  He   was  quarter- 
master on  the  Neptune  when  I  was  along  as  second  officer. 
We  were  only  making  seven  knots,  and  it  was  mighty 
hot.     And  in  times  like  that  anything  will  amuse  you. 
I've  had  all  kinds  of  experiences,  and  I  can  tell  about 
them,  too ;  but  I'm  nothing  to  him.     He  told  about  once 
when  he  was  mate  on  some  kind  of  a  rig  going  from  Bom- 
bay to  Hongkong.     There  was  a  Hindu  in  the  crew  — 
one  of  that  old-fashioned  kind  from  the  interior.     Well, 
at  some  port  or  other  the  Hindu  did  something  out  of 
the  way,  and  to  punish  him  the  mate  locked  him  up  be- 
hind an  iron  door  in  a  store-room.     Happening  to  need 
more  space  than  usual,  they  piled  things  against  the  place 
where  the  man  was  shut  up.     Seeing  this,  the  quarter- 
master said  to  the  captain,  '  We  mustn't  forget  that  fel- 
low.'    '  Oh,  it  wouldn't  make  much  difference  if  we  did,' 
the  captain  said.     '  He's  one  of  that  old-fashioned  kind; 
he  just  squats  there  looking  at  his  own  belly,  and  doesn't 
see  or  hear  anything,  and  doesn't  get  hungry  or  thirsty.' 
Well,  that  satisfied  the  quartermaster.     They  sailed  on, 
and  ran  into  a  storm,  and  put  into  port.     There  was  some 
trouble,  I  forget  what  —  and  the  quartermaster  left  that 
ship  and  went  on  board  another.     Six  years  afterward  he 
went  back  to  the   first  ship  as  quartermaster,  or  mate. 
He  set  about  trying  to  get  things  into  shape,  for  every- 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  359 

thing  was  fairly  going  to  ruin.  They  cleared  away  the 
stuff  around  the  iron  door  and  opened  it ;  and  there  they 
found  the  Hindu,  very  well  preserved,  except  that  he 
was  a  little  discolored  where  he  had  been  leaning  against 
the  iron.  However,  the  fresh  air  made  that  all  right 
again.  Every  race  has  its  peculiarity,  Hanna.  The 
other  thing  I  wanted  to  say  was,  are  you  nailed  fast  here 
in  Hamburg,  or  would  it  be  possible  for  you  to  think  of 
living  in  Queen's  Road,  Hongkong?  " 

Hanna  blushed,  and  looked  with  shining  eyes  first  at 
her  big  brother,  then  at  Kalli  Dau.  "  If  the  things  you 
tell  about  it  are  true,"  she  said  at  last,  dubiously,  "it 
doesn't  sound  exactly  alluring." 

"  Don't  you  forget  that  word  you  used !  "  Karl  Dau 
said.  "  Alluring  ?  Well,  I  should  think.  I  tell  you,  I  had 
some  experiences  there.  When  I  was  a  very  young  sailor 
on  the  Anna  Behn,  we  were  lying  once  off  Otaheiti.  With 
us  there  were  two  other  German  boats  and  a  French  man- 
of-war.  Well,  one  fine  day  —  the  weather  is  always  per- 
fect there  —  we  sat  up  half  the  night  in  the  tavern  with 
our  French  comrades,  having  a  fine  time  together.  I  took 
my  harmonica  along,  and  played  and  played.  I  was  in 
high  spirits  because  we  were  having  such  a  good  time  with 
the  Frenchmen,  and  I  probably  got  in  too  deep.  I  don't 
know  how  it  happened,  but  when  I  started  off  alone  back 
to  the  boat,  I  somehow  lost  my  way.  With  my  harmonica 
under  my  arm,  I  went  on  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  for- 
est. It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  in  Holstein.  Finally  I 
got  dead  tired  and  lay  down  to  sleep.  When  I  woke  up 
it  was  bright  daylight,  and  I  was  lying  on  a  clean  matting 
in  a  neat  little  hut,  and  around  me  the  whole  family  of 
Kanakas  —  tliat's  what  they  call  the  natives  —  were  sitting 
laughing  and  having  a  good  time  over  my  surprised  looks. 
I  made  a  sign  that  I  was  awfully  thirsty.  They  brought 
me  a  fresh  cocoanut  at  once,  cut  it  open,  and  gave  me  the 
milk  to  drink.  Since  they  were  so  good  to  me,  I  picked 
up  my  harmonica  and  played  to  them,  and  they  danced  to 
the  music  in  the  shade  of  the  big  trees.  They  were  all 
nice  looking  people,  and  there  were  several  pretty  girls 


360  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

among  them.  Everything  was  nice  and  cheerful  and  good 
to  look  at.  Finally  I  said  that  I  must  go  back  to  my  ship. 
Then  the  oldest  of  them  explained  to  me  that  they  liked 
me  and  my  music  so  much  that  they  wanted  to  ask  me  to 
stay  with  them.  They  brought  out  three  pretty  girls,  one 
of  whom  I  was  to  choose  for  a  wife.  Now  I  tell  you,  that 
was  really  alluring.  When  I  got  back  to  the  Anna  Behn 
what  was  I  ?  —  a  sailor,  working  barefoot,  without  family 
or  friends.  Well,  still,  it  wouldn't  have  been  right.  Well, 
what  now,  Hanna  ?  " 

"  Well,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  that  story  was  a  good  deal 
better."  ^ 

"  There  are  lots  of  stories  like  that,"  said  Captain  Dau, 
with  a  gesture  to  indicate  that  he  could  produce  heaps  of 
them.  "  But  they  don't  get  us  anywhere.  I  don't  want 
to  coax  you,  Hanna  —  but  if  you  would  like  to  go  along  — 
you  know  I  have  to  leave  in  four  days." 

"  That's  a  very  short  time,"  she  said,  giving  him  a  long 
look. 

Kalli  Dau  stood  her  look  steadily.  "  You  wouldn't  have 
to  bother  with  other  people's  children  any  more  tlien, 
Hanna,"  he  said,  gravely  and  kindly;  "  for  you'd  have  some 
of  your  own.  And  I  wager  they'd  be  mighty  pretty  chil- 
dren. I  was  an  agile  little  chap  by  nature  —  the  reason  I 
walk  somewhat  heavily  now  is  that  my  mother  abused  me." 

Hanna  slowly  pushed  aside  the  pile  of  books.  Flush- 
ing delicately,  she  said  in  a  low,  trembling  voice,  "  I  should 
like  very  much  to  have  a  home  and  children  of  my  own  — 
but  why  is  it  that  you  want  it  ?  " 

Kalli  Dau  really  had  to  consider  a  minute.  "  I  ?  "  he 
said.  "  Why,  I  —  I  haven't  got  anything  —  I  want  a 
home  and  a  wife  and  children,  too."  A  sudden  look  of 
pain  crossed  his  brown  face.  "  I've  just  seen  my  mother 
for  the  last  time,  Hanna,"  he  said.  "  I  haven't  any- 
thing else  in  the  world." 

She  did  not  hear  him.  Womanlike,  she  was  thinking 
of  herself.  With  tears  of  doubt  and  discontent  welling 
into  her  eyes,  she  said,  "  Well,  but  why  is  it  that  it's  me 
you  want?"  pointing  to  herself. 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  361 

"  You  ?  "  said  Kalli  Dau.  "  Because  every  time  I  thought 
about  my  mother,  I  saw  you.  You're  the  exact  opposite 
of  my  mother.  You  are  a  dear  pretty  little  thing  —  that's 
why." 

She  was  blushing  so  prettily  now  that  Klaus  Baas,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  thought  how  pretty  his  little  sis- 
ter was.  "  Well,  then,"  she  said  slowly,  "  if  you're  really 
sure  that's  the  way  it  is  ?  " 

Kalli  Dau  understood.  Turning  toward  the  door,  he 
said,  "  You  can  go  now,  Klaus  !  Go  tell  your  mother 
what's  up." 

That  evening,  while  Klaus  Baas  was  alone  with  his  sis- 
ter in  her  room,  where  she  was  packing  the  things  she 
wanted  to  take  with  her,  he  said,  "Kalli  Dau  is  a  real  man, 
Hanna  —  and  that's  a  good  deal  in  these  days  when  there 
are  so  many  that  are  only  half  men.  And  he  is  good  — 
you  know  that.  He  is  simple-minded,  and  has  very  little 
education,  and  if  this  or  anything  else  you  find  out  about 
him  surprises  you,  why,  you've  got  to  remember  that  you're 
there  to  help  put  him  right.  But  go  slow  about  the  chang- 
ing and  helping ;  you  don't  know  the  world,  Hanna  I  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  don't.  I  had  a  big  brother,  but  he 
never  showed  it  to  me." 

Klaus  stopped  and  thought  a  moment.  Then  he  said 
firmly,  "  It  took  a  long  time,  Hanna,  for  me  really  to 
grow  up  myself.  Since  I  rose  from  a  lower  rank  than  the 
one  I  am  in  now,  there  was  a  long  time  when  I  was  slink- 
ing around  the  world  shyly,  just  like  a  young  fox  in  a 
strange  country.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  wasn't  grown  up 
and  hadn't  any  real  confidence  in  myself  till  a  year  ago, 
and  I  got  it  in  a  woman's  arms.  We  learn  to  be  sure  of 
ourselves  for  the  first  time  from  the  other  sex.  You  will 
find  that  out,  too." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  and  I'm  glad,  too." 

"  You  are  a  dear,  sensible  girl,"  Klaus  said,  glad  to  see 
her  provided  for.     Then  he  put  his  arm  around  her. 

"  You  never  did  that  before,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone,  a 
little  bitterly.     "  You  have  always  been  cold  with  me." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  because  I  had  so  much  to  look  after 


362  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

for  myself.  So  awfully  much  !  But  if  I  had  just  known 
that  you  were  in  love,  or  that  you  wanted  to  be,  I  could 
have  been  open  and  intimate  with  you,  as  with  a  complete 
person.  But  you  were  always  so  reticent.  Really,  Hanna, 
you  had  the  air  of  being  shut  up  in  a  thimble  !  " 

"  Well,  now  I'll  soon  be  a  '  complete  person,'  "  she  said, 
banteringly. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  gravely,  "  that's  just  what  I  mean." 

Four  days  later  Hanna  Baas  left  for  China  with  Kalli 
Dau.  At  first  she  wanted  him  to  go  on  ahead  ;  but  in  the 
end  she  was  too  kind-hearted  to  let  him  start  off  on  the  long 
voyage  alone.  Perhaj)s,  too,  she  felt  impelled  to  climb 
out  of  the  thimble  as  soon  as  she  could,  and  become  a  '  com- 
plete person,'  as  her  big  brother  said. 

Klaus  was  as  proud  as  if  he  had  brought  about  and  man- 
aged the  whole  affair  himself.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  how- 
ever, his  heart  had  been  preoccupied  with  his  own  trouble. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

The  next  day,  when  he  was  at  Frau  Eschen's,  talking 
along  with  her  in  their  usual  fashion,  she  told  him,  before 
he  had  a  chance  to  ask,  that  Sanna  was  coming  liome  the 
next  Wednesday.  She  had  already  been  invited  to  a  little 
party  in  Uhlenhorst  by  some  friends  whose  name  she  men- 
tioned. Klaus  asked  Frau  Eschen  whether  she  knew  any 
of  the  other  people  that  were  asked.  Among  others  she 
mentioned  a  man  Klaus  knew  well.     Klaus  left  at  once. 

He  sought  out  this  friend  on  the  Exchange,  and  said  to 
him,  very  casually,  "  While  I  was  away  I  lost  all  my  con- 
nections here  and  got  pretty  well  out  of  things.  If  you 
have  access  to  a  nice  house  and  think  they  need  some  one 
that  will  venture  on  a  waltz  or  the  lancers,  as  a  last  resort, 
why,  just  think  of  me." 

"  Why,  Baas,  I  offered  you  things  like  that  several  times 
in  the  winter,"  his  friend  reproached  him,  "and  you 
wouldn't  hear  of  them.  There's  not  much  going  on  now. 
But  I  tell  you,  come  on  over  to  Uhlenhorst  with  me  day 
after  to-morrow.  I've  got  an  invitation  from  some  nice 
people  over  there.  And  you're  a  man  that  does  a  person 
credit.  I'll  write  over  there  to-day.  You  call  on  them 
and  the  thing's  done."  Klaus  Baas  laughed.  "  So  far,  so 
good,"  he  thought. 

He  went  out  to  Uhlenhorst,  where  he  found  a  comfort- 
able new  house  on  Fahr  Strasse,  built  with  a  broad  hall, 
after  the  old  Saxon  style,  and  comfortable  rooms.  The 
owners,  an  elderly  couple,  were  enjoying  their  property 
after  many  years  of  limited  income.  They  had  no  chil- 
dren, and  they  wanted  to  open  the  house  to  their  circle  of 
acquaintances  by  giving  a  little  dance.  Klaus  had  mani- 
festly been  well  recommended  to  them  by  their  common 

363 


364  KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS 

friend's  letter,  for  they  received  him  cordially  and  prom- 
ised that  he  would  meet  several  pretty  young  ladies. 

It  happened  that  the  foreign  mail,  which  had  been  de- 
layed, came  in  on  the  very  evening  of  the  party,  so  that  it 
was  almost  nine  before  Klaus  could  leave  the  office.  He 
dressed  in  a  hurry  and  rode  out.  The  party  was  much 
larger  than  he  had  supposed  it  would  be,  for  the  whole 
house  was  full  of  people.  Having  spent  several  hours  to- 
gether with  wine  and  dancing,  they  were  all  in  high  spirits. 
After  speaking  to  his  hostess,  Klaus  drifted  into  a  circle 
of  young  merchants,  two  of  whom  he  knew  slightly.  One 
had  crossed  his  path  in  India,  the  other  was  his  neighbor 
at  the  Exchange.  For  a  while  they  all  chatted  pleasantly 
together. 

He  got  away  from  them  as  soon  as  possible.  As  he  was 
standing  in  the  shadow  of  a  big  bower  at  the  side,  looking 
closely  at  the  couples  gliding  by  him,  he  caught  sight  of 
Sauna  Eschen.  Since  the  house  was  in  general  built  and 
furnished  in  the  style  of  well-to-do  dwellings  of  about  1800, 
some  of  the  ladies  had  dressed  in  costumes  of  that  time. 
Sanna  Eschen,  too,  had  on  a  gown  of  some  light  stuff 
covered  with  pale  flowers,  which  had  been  hanging  all 
these  years  in  the  closet  of  her  grandmother,  old  Madame 
Eschen.  As  she  danced,  she  kicked  out  the  wide,  plaited 
skirt  gracefully  with  her  knee,  her  head  bent  low.  Her 
bosom,  rising  and  falling  charmingly,  seemed  to  be  keep- 
ing time  with  the  music  ;  in  short,  slie  was  putting  her 
whole  soul  into  the  dance.  As  Klaus  looked  at  her,  his 
heart  beat  fast.  "  So  that  is  what  she  has  grown  into,"  he 
thought;  "  into  that  beautiful,  winning  woman —  quite  as 
beautiful  as  her  mother.  But  far  too  beautiful  and  noble 
for  me,  alas  !  I  shall  never  win  her."  But  even  as  he 
said  to  himself  that  he  could  not,  he  longed  for  her  more 
hotly  than  ever.  And  standing  there,  thinking  of  all  his 
tottering  plans,  he  set  his  teeth  —  "  I'll  try  it,  at  least,"  he 
said  to  himself,  "no  matter  what  comes  of  it." 

Suddenly  he  saw  Sanna,  in  the  midst  of  her  dance,  direct 
a  long,  searching,  then  indignant,  glance  toward  a  couple 
dancing  at  the  other  end  of  the  hall.     Following  her  look, 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  365 

Klaus  saw  a  young  unmarried  man,  whom  he  knew,  danc- 
ing and  apparently  having  a  fine  time  with  a  small  dark 
woman  with  a  confident,  coquettish  manner.  It  was  per- 
fectly evident  that  Sanna  was  annoyed  at  this  good-looking 
young  man's  behavior.  Standing  there  behind  the  flowers, 
with  a  companion  that  had  come  up  to  him,  Klaus  watched 
the  little  scene  unobserved  for  a  while  longer.  The  pair 
under  suspicion  were  now  standing  in  the  corner.  The 
small  dark  woman  was  flirting  and  leading  the  man  on 
with  her  black  eyes,  and  manipulating  her  fan  with  an  air 
that  was  nothing  less  than  art.  The  young  man  had  eyes 
or  thoughts  for  no  one  else  ;  and  it  was  pretty  plain  that 
there  was  little  hope  for  any  third  person  —  not  just  then, 
at  least.  And  yet  the  third  person  existed  —  Fraulein 
Eschen.  With  pale  face  and  big,  quiet  eyes,  she  danced 
on,  never  hearing  at  all  what  her  partner  was  saying. 
She  was  trying  to  look  away  from  the  tormenting  picture, 
and  she  couldn't  do  it.  He  was  evidently  an  old  admirer 
of  hers,  and  she  had  just  as  evidently  set  great  hopes  on 
this  first  meeting  with  him  after  her  return  from  England. 
She  had  thought  his  face  would  beam  with  joy  at  seeing 
her  again  ;  and  now  this  —  !  Once  the  young  man  looked 
over  at  her,  in  an  indifferent,  hesitating  way.  And  she 
saw  the  look  I  How  could  a  man  turn  his  eyes  from  that 
tall,  light-haired  girl,  all  alive  with  noble  vitality,  to  that 
dark,  coquettish  little  creature  !  "  Well,  for  the  Lord's 
sake,  take  her- — you're  a  good  match,"  thought  Klaus. 
Finally  Sanna  Eschen  stopped  dancing.  Three  men 
gathered  round  her,  two  of  whom  were  single,  one  mar- 
ried :  not  one  of  them  was  a  really  good,  reliable  man. 
Plainly  they  did  not  interest  her,  for  her  angry  glances 
flew  stealthily  back  to  the  corner,  where  the  two  were 
talking  more  and  more  gayly,  and  where  the  dark  eyes 
were  glowing  more  and  more  passionately  all  the  time. 
Finally  the  two  heads  vanished  behind  her  fan. 

Sanna  could  endure  it  no  longer.  She  stepped  back 
cautiously,  and  catching  up  her  grandmother's  dress,  slid 
along  the  wall  and  gained  the  open  staircase.  She  sat 
down  on  a  step  pretty  far  up,  where  it  was  rather  dark, 


366  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

and  hunted  for  her  handkerchief  in  every  possible  place  in 
this  odd  old  gown  ;  failing  to  find  it,  she  had  to  dry  her 
tears  with  her  gloves. 

Then  Klaus  threaded  his  way  through  the  guests  with 
the  firm  resolve  :  "  As  sure  as  I  live,  I  will  win  that  dear 
woman  !  "  He  went  up  the  steps  until  he  was  on  a  level 
with  her  face,  and  said,  in  a  hearty,  encouraging  tone, 
"  Jumbo,  show  the  gentlemen  your  teeth !  " 

She  gave  him  a  surprised  look,  recognizing  the  words, 
without  recognizing  him.  Then  in  astonishment,  she  held 
out  her  hand,  and  said,  with  real  joy  that  some  one  had 
come  to  her  in  her  trouble,  "  Oh,  can  it  be  Herr  Baas  I 
Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  are  here  !  " 

Still  holding  her  hand,  which  she  did  not  attempt  to 
draw  away,  he  said  simply,  "  May  I  sit  beside  you  for  a 
little  while  ?  I  can't  help  seeing  that  you  are  sad,  and  I 
don't  like  it." 

She  moved  over  quite  willingly,  and  arranging  her  skirt 
more  carefully  about  her  knees  and  feet,  pulled  herself 
together  and  looked  up  at  him  with  some  curiosity  and  a 
little  embarrassment. 

Klaus  sat  down  beside  her.  "  Really,  you  must  show 
your  teeth  to  the  man  over  there  in  the  corner,  Fraulein 
Sanna,"  he  said  good-humoredly.  "  A  tall,  beautiful  girl 
like  you  certainly  doesn't  let  anything  get  the  best  of  her." 

She  winced.     "  It  isn't  easy,  though,"  she  said  honestly. 

"  I've  seen  how  it  is,"  Klaus  said.  "  It's  inconceivable, 
of  course,  but  what's  to  be  done?  You  can't  hold  him 
back  from  the  way  he  wants  to  go,  Fraulein  Sanna." 

She  looked  down  at  the  happy  throng  of  people  dancing 
and  chatting  below,  and  her  eyes  suddenly  filled  with  tears. 
Then  she  threw  back  her  head,  looked  for  her  handker- 
chief, and  finding  it  this  time,  wiped  her  eyes  vigorously. 
Looking  at  Klaus  Baas,  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  honest  resolve, 
"  I'm  not  going  to  bother  any  more  about  him.  It  doesn't 
do  me  any  good.  And  I  don't  really  like  him  any  more. 
Now  I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  little  bit.  Will  you  stay 
with  me  a  little  longer  ?  " 

"Suppose  you  tell  me  what  you  are  doing,"  Klaus  said. 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  367 

She  shrugged  her  pretty  shoulders.  "  What  I  am 
doing  ?  "  she  said  spiritlessly,  with  a  sort  of  forced  cheer- 
fulness. "  Two  years  ago  I  qualified  as  a  teacher.  I've 
just  been  in  England  for  a  year.  And  now  I'm  back  to 
the  old  life  again.  I  help  a  little  around  our  little  home 
—  but  that's  notliing.  I  do  a  few  errands,  go  to  see  a 
friend,  idle  on  the  Alster  on  fine  evenings  ;  I  sit  and  make 
myself  a  new  waist,  or  a  table-cover  ;  and  I  plan  how  to 
spend  my  little  monthly  allowance  to  the  best  advantage. 
That's  all.  I  get  thirty  marks  a  month.  You  can't  do 
much  with  that.  In  winter  I'll  probably  have  to  play 
teacher  again,  or  at  any  rate  I'll  have  to  give  a  few  lessons 
to  fill  out  my  exchequer  a  little.     It's  ghastly." 

"I  was  just  thinking  a  little  while  ago,"  said  Klaus, 
"  how  beautifully  you  were  dancing." 

"  Were  you  looking  at  me  ?  "  she  asked. 

"All  the  time,"  he  answered,  quite  as  a  matter  of  fact; 
"  where  else  should  I  look  ?  While  you  were  dancing 
there,  so  pretty  and  so  tall,  I  just  felt  like  telling  you 
what  a  delicate  little  thing  you  were  when  we  were  there 
at  Aunt  Laura's  and  I  warmed  the  milk  bottle." 

"  O  dear  me,"  she  said,  with  a  quick  little  laugh,  shak- 
ing her  head  dubiously,  as  if  the  picture  he  had  conjured 
up  were  of  some  other  queer  little  girl.  With  a  quick 
look  at  him,  she  said  mischievously,  "  I  can  just  see  you 
standing  there  now,"  and  she  made  a  gesture  with  her 
right  hand  to  illustrate  washi-ng  the  brushes. 

Klaus  laughed  and  nodded,  feeling  inexpressibly  drawn 
to  her.  "  And  then,"  he  said,  "  we  saw  each  other  the 
evening  Karl  and  I  were  leaving  for  India.  You  looked 
awfully  nice  in  your  little  white  nightie.  I  carried  you 
on  my  arm  like  this  —  " 

"  Oh,  my  goodness  !  "  she  said,  again  speaking  as  if  they 
were  talking  about  a  little  girl  that  had  somehow  been 
stolen  by  the  gypsies.  "  What  a  little  goose  !  Well,  in 
those  days  we  had  a  game  we  used  to  play  —  Karl  brought 
it  home  from  the  office ;  we  would  bow  low  all  around, 
sliding  back  our  right  foot  a  little,  and  say  with  great 
dignity,  '  Klaas  Hiurich  Baas!  '  " 


368  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Klaus  laughed  and  nodded.  "  Oh,  you  with  your 
beautiful  eyes,"  he  thought  to  himself  more  and  more 
passionately ;  "  you  with  your  full  red  mouth  and  white 
teeth  —  I'm  going  to  win  you  !  " 

"  Then  we  saw  each  other  again,"  he  said,  "  when  I  came 
back  from  India.  I  met  you  on  the  steps  —  don't  you  re- 
member ?  And  you  begged  me  not  to  tell  that  little  night- 
gown story.  You  said  he  would  go  crazy  if  he  found  it 
out." 

"  Oh,  my  goodness  !  "  she  said,  as  if  the  little  gypsy 
child,  half  frozen,  and  in  rags,  had  just  been  found  be- 
hind a  hedge.     "  What  a  fourteen-year-old  goose  I  was !  " 

"  Was  that  your  first  love  affair  ?  "  he  asked. 
She  reflected.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  the  first  was  two  years 
before  that.  It  was  when  father  was  sick  and  we  were 
living  up  there  in  Hamm.  We  used  to  go  sledding  down 
the  hill  with  the  other  children.  And  once  in  a  while  we 
had  fights  and  the  boys  washed  our  faces  with  snow. 
And  I  remember  I  gradually  came  to  want  a  certain  boy 
to  get  angry  with  me  and  wash  my  face  pretty  often.  I  just 
hated  having  any  one  else  do  it,  and  shrieked  as  if  I  were 
being  killed  ;  but  I  kept  almost  quiet  when  he  did."  She 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  must  have  been  very  fond  of 
him,"  she  said  reflectively.  "  Don't  you  think  so  ?  "  and 
she  looked  questioningly  at  Klaus  Baas. 

He  nodded  gravely.  "And  then  came  your  schoolboy 
friend,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  but  I  guess  that  was  mostly  just  talk 
and  foolishness.  My  girl  friends  all  had  an  admirer,  and 
I  didn't  want  to  be  behind  them.  But  he  had  a  mole  on 
his  nose,"  she  added  honestly. 

Klaus  Baas  laughed.     "  And  then  ?  "  he  said,  "go  on." 

She  looked  up  at  him  a  little  suspiciously  as  he  sat  there 
beside  her,  to  see  whether  he  was  really  in  earnest. 

"  My  mother  mentioned  you  in  almost  every  letter  she 
wrote,"  she  said.  "She  told  me  how  awfully  hard  you 
were  working,  and  how  sober  you  were,  and  what  trouble 
you  had  in  your  marriage  —  and  things  like  that.  And 
I  never  supposed  you  would  care  to  listen  to  this  silly 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  369 

stuff,  or  that  you  could  be  so  jolly  and  above  all,  so 
awfully  human." 

He  nodded  his  head  at  her  cheerfully.  "A  person's  got 
to  be  jolly,"  he  said.  "You  are,  too.  Otherwise  a  person 
is  absolutely  colorless.  Go  on,  now.  Tell  the  whole 
honest  truth." 

Slie  looked  at  him,  still  somewhat  hesitatingly,  but  when 
he  said,  "  Go  on "  in  his  imperative  way,  she  began. 
"  Well,  I  was  eighteen  then,  and  this  time  it  was  really 
serious.  It  was  a  gentleman — well,  his  name  doesn't 
matter.  I'll  call  him  Mr.  Staircase.  I  met  him  a  good  deal 
at  social  gatherings  and  we  all  liked  him  immensely,  and 
we  were  all  after  him.  And  I  guess  several  of  us  had  our 
hopes.  But  I  thought  that  he  singled  me  out  especially 
and  that  he  would  marry  me.  It  went  on  that  way  for 
two  years,  till  I  was  twenty.  I  kept  thinking  that  I  was 
really  the  one  and  that  it  would  happen  any  time.  Then 
all  of  a  sudden  he  married  my  friend.  I  was  invited  to 
the  wedding  ;  but  I  went  over  a  little  while  before  and 
said  that  I  was  going  away  and  couldn't  come.  She  knew 
very  well  how  things  stood,  and  she  cried  about  me.  And 
I  laughed.  But  when  I  got  outside,  I  cried,  too.  They 
have  a  little  boy  now.  I  saw  him  on  the  street  not  long 
ago  —  he  can  just  walk.  He's  a  dear  little  chap  !  Well 
—  that  was  Mr.  Staircase.  —  I  suppose  about  six  girls  had 
hopes  of  him." 

She  was  looking  hard  at  the  dancers,  and  her  mouth 
was  shut  tight. 

"  And  next  ?  "  said  Klaus,  kindly  and  firmly. 

"  Well,  then,"  she  went  on  slowly,  "  last  winter  a  dis- 
tant acquaintance  came  back  from  Mexico.  He  was  a 
merchant,  too.  I'll  call  him  Mr.  Bracket.  He  wasn't 
a  bad  sort.  We  used  to  have  a  really  good  time  sitting 
together  drinking  wine  and  talking  French.  He  spoke 
it  better  than  I  did.  But  still  he  was  —  I  hardly  know 
how  .to  say  it  —  so  narrow  —  and  dependent,  kind  of  like 
his  name.  He  depended  so  on  other  people's  observations 
and  opinions.  People  always  said,  '  He's  a  terribly  good- 
hearted  sort.'  Good-hearted  sort !  What  would  I  do 
2b 


370  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

with  a  man  like  that  !  He  was  a  little  stupid,  too,  I 
thought.  For  instance,  he  thought  a  girl  of  twenty-two 
had  had  absolutely  no  experience,  and  had  always  had  her 
head  in  the  clouds  waiting  for  the  one  man  to  come.  So 
stupid  !  And  then  he  hadn't  the  least  idea  what  altruism 
means." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  either,"  said  Klaus  Baas, 
dryly. 

"  You  don't  ?  "  she  said,  in  amazement.  "  How  can 
that  be  ?  You  really  don't  know  ?  "  And  she  looked  at 
him  searchingly.  "  Well,  anyway,  you  are  very  different 
from  him.  And  then  you've  had  to  work  hard  from  child- 
hood up.  You've  had  to  keep  at  washing  the  brushes. 
I  think  that  if  you  had  had  time  you  would  have  an  inter- 
est in  all  kinds  of  things." 

He  laughed  and  nodded.     "  Go  on  !  "  he  said. 

"Well  —  on  then.  He  proposed  to  me,  but  I  couldn't 
abide  him.  And  I  couldn't  bear  to  see  him  any  more. 
So  I  sent  him  off  —  and  then  —  "she  looked  down  at 
the  dancers. 

"And  then,"  said  Klaus  Baas,  "then  came  the  man 
standing  there  in  the  corner  with  the  little  dark  woman. 
I  think  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  call  him  Mr.  Step  and 
to  walk  over  him  and  forget  him.  And  now,  if  you  like, 
we'll  join  the  lancers.  Then  we  two  old  acquaintances 
can  get  a  good  look  at  each  other.  But  even  if  you  don't 
feel  happy,  you  must  look  cheerful.  I  insist  on  it,  first, 
on  my  account,  because  I've  done  so  much  for  you,  from 
the  time  when  I  looked  after  that  bottle  of  yours  till  now  ; 
and  secondly,  for  your  own  sake,  because  I  don't  want  Mr. 
Step  to  get  to  imagining  anything  !  " 

She  was  standing  there  straightening  her  dress  and 
breathing  deeply.  Looking  at  him  with  her  big  eyes,  she 
said,  "  How  much  can  happen  on  a  staircase  !  You  really 
have  cheered  me  up." 

"Of  course!"  he  said.  "It  just  had  to  be.  Tbat's 
what  comes  of  old  association  and  secret  influence.  The 
safety-pin  at  your  belt  is  all  undone.  May  I?  There's 
where  I  come  in  again." 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  371 

She  laughed.  "  My  goodness!  "  she  said,  "  how  much  I 
have  told  you!     I  wonder  how  I  could  be  so  confidential!  " 

"Oh,  pshaw!"  he  said  curtly.  "Come  —  they  are  tak- 
ing their  places." 

After  the  dance  they  stepped  back  a  little  and  stood 
comfortably  beside  a  big  wardrobe.  In  a  low  voice  she 
questioned  him  curiously  about  the  hard  times  the  firm 
had  gone  through  the  year  before.  As  he  told  her  various 
things,  she  followed  him  closely,  her  keen  eyes  riveted  on 
his  eyes  and  mouth.  When  he  had  finished,  she  remained 
beside  him,  with  her  arm  in  his  in  a  friendly  fashion. 
Finally,  with  a  certain  confidence,  he  said,  "  Well,  shall 
I  go  away  and  leave  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  want  to  get  rid  of  me,"  she  said,  as  simply  as  a 
child  speaks  to  its  elders. 

He  shook  his  head  in  denial.  "  You  know  very  well, 
Friiulein  Sannu,"  he  said,  "  that  I'd  rather  stay  with  you 
than  anywhere  else." 

She  turned  around  and  went  through  the  crowd  with 
him,  greeting  various  acquaintances,  and  quite  overlook- 
ing Mr.  Step,  who  was  still  talking  to  the  little  dark  lady. 
Over  in  one  corner  she  gave  him  a  second  and  very  par- 
ticular introduction  to  a  young  woman,  an  old  friend  of 
hers.  "  Of  course,  you  didn't  understand  the  name  when 
I  introduced  you,  Lene,"  she  said.  "  This  is  Herr  Baas, 
who  was  at  Aunt  Laura's  with  Trude  and  me  when  she 
was  painting  the  prophets  ;  and  then  he  was  in  India 
with  Karl ;  and  last  year  he  acted  for  Arthur  in  that 
dreadful  panic." 

Her  friend  laughed.  "  You  told  me  all  that  before, 
3'ou  goose,"  she  said.  "  You  told  me  in  your  letters,  and 
when  you  saw  me,  too.     So  this  is  he!     And  what  now?" 

"  What  now?  "  Sanna  repeated,  hesitatingly,  looking  at 
the  serious-looking,  artful  friend,  and  then  at  Klaus  Baas's 
confident  eyes.  She  became  confused.  "  Well,  heavens, 
what  now?  Well,  why,  now,  he  is  here,  of  course  — and," 
blushing  more  and  more  —  "  and  he's  remarkably  nice  — 
and  I  won't  speak  to  you  for  seven  years,  you  mean 
thing!" 


372  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

After  speaking  to  some  other  friends,  they  separated 
for  a  while.     Then  they  had  another  dance  together. 

"  You  certainly  can  dance !  "  she  said  approvingly. 

"Yes,  it's  a  gift  that  runs  in  our  family,"  he  said. 
"And  then  when  I  was  in  Blankenese  I  had  a  sort  of 
graduate  course  with  the  ifavigation  students.  I  was 
twenty-two  then.     That's  ten  years  ago." 

She  looked  at  him  intently.  "  I'll  wager  you  were  a 
great  rogue  then,"  she^said. 

"  Well,  you're  one  too,  Sanna,"  he  said.  "  Think  how 
sad  you  were,  sitting  there  on  the  stairs.  And  now  you're 
quite  gay  and  laughing.  Laugh  again,  please  —  it  sounds 
so  good.  " 

Klaus  had  hoped  to  make  the  trip  back  with  her  and 
the  others.  But  it  turned  out  that  she  was  stajdng  there 
as  a  guest  overnight. 

In  the  midst  of  his  work  next  day  he  kept  thinking 
how  he  could  effectively  hasten  what  he  had  so  well 
begun. 

He  decided  finally  to  go  to  Frau  Eschen's  immediately 
after  the  closing  hour  at  the  office  and  ask  politely  how 
Fraulein  Sanna  was  after  the  night  before. 

He  approached  the  house  just  as  it  was  getting  dark. 
As  he  was  crossing  the  street,  he  saw  her  sweep  out  of  the 
door  and  down  the  few  steps  of  their  house.  She  had  on 
an  immaculate  white  waist  with  a  high  linen  collar  and  a 
man's  blue  tie,  a  hat  and  a  loose  jacket,  and  she  looked  in- 
describably trim.  She  held  her  head  a  little  forward,  and 
kept  her  mouth  open  just  a  little.  She  walked  with  a 
sort  of  swinging,  free  knee  movement  —  a  fashion  she 
had  brought  over  from  England. 

Though  she  was  plainly  in  a  hurry,  she  stopped  so  sud- 
denly when  she  saw  him  that  her  skirt  swung  around  her. 
She  gave  him  her  hand  with  quick  cordiality,  and  through 
the  twilight  peered  into  his  face  in  her  clear,  bright  way. 
Evidently  she  found  there  everything  that  had  attracted 
her  the  night  before.  She  looked  charmed  when  he  told 
her  that  he  had  meant  to  come  to  see  her,  and  took  him 
up  the  two  steps  to  the  door.     Then  she  suddenly  stopped. 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  373 

"Oh,  it's  too  stupid!"  she   said.     "There   are   two   old 
ladies  up  there,  come  to  see  mama." 

"  But  I  wanted  to  talk  to  you,"  Klaus  said  persistently. 
"  Can't  we  take  a  little  walk  together  ?  " 

She  looked  thoughtful.  "  Tliat  would  hardly  do,"  she 
said,  "  right  here  in  the  heart  of  the  city." 

He  drew  her  hand,  which  he  had  not  let  go,  a  little 
toward  him,  coaxingly.  "  Then  tell  me  some  time  this 
week  when  we  can  take  a  little  walk  —  alone  —  out  of 
doors,  for  quite  a  while." 

"  Well,  where  could  we  ?  "  she  said,  in  a  slow,  hesitating 
voice,  looking  straight  at  him. 

"  Wherever  you  want !  " 

She  drew  her  brows  quite  together  in  her  effort  to  con- 
jure M])  something. 

Finally  she  said,  "  I  could  make  a  call  in  Hochkamp 
toward  evening  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  then,"  he  said  quickly,  "  we'll  meet  at  seven  at 
the  station  there  and  go  to  one  of  the  parks.  Say  you 
will,  Sanna,"  and  he  drew  her  hand  to  him  in  passionate 
entreaty. 

His  hand  and  his  look  showed  her  that  he  was  being 
irresistibly  drawn  toward  her.  She  drew  back,  her  eyes 
big  and  proud,  her  face  pale. 

And  he,  seeing  that  she  loved  him,  said,  with  the  mastery 
of  love,  "  You  will  come,  Sanna  !  " 

She  stood  there  straight  as-  an  arrow,  her  face  pale, 
her  eyes  fixed  solemnly  upon  him.  Suddenly  she  held  out 
her  hand  and  shook  his  vehemently  as  if  to  say,  "  That 
settles  it."  Then  she  turned  around  and  went  slowly 
up  the  steps  again. 

Klaus  went  home  fairly  drunken  with  happiness.  Sit- 
ting down  opposite  his  mother,  he  boasted  along  at  a  great 
rate,  giving  her  all  kinds  of  false  leads  as  to  the  source 
of  his  exuberance.  Exhilaration  of  this  sort  in  him  was 
always  to  Antje  Baas  like  a  red  rag  to  a  bull.  She  imme- 
diately reminded  him  of  the  tongs,  of  St.  Pauli,  of  his 
dismal  trip  back  home,  and  of  the  six  years  of  his  married 
life.     She  impressed  on  him  all  the  errors  that  he  or  any 


374  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

other  Baas  had  ever  committed,  as  a  result  of  folly  or 
arrogance.     But  her  scorn  only  increased  his  exuberance. 

The  next  night  —  a  lovely  soft  May  evening  —  Sanna 
was  at  the  place  agreed  upon  at  the  appointed  time.  She 
greeted  him  very  gravely,  but  with  no  sign  of  anger  or 
repulsion.  They  walked  along  toward  the  Elbe,  talking 
of  all  kinds  of  trifles. 

When  they  reached  the  park,  it  had  grown  darker,  and 
they  could  proceed  more  comfortably.  They  turned  into 
a  narrower  pathway  leading  up  along  the  Elbe.  All  at 
once  his  hand  happened  to  touch  hers  ;  in  a  minute  he  had 
seized  and  held  it,  and  they  were  walking  on  hand  in  hand. 
Over  the  Elbe  in  front  of  them  hung  great  dark  clouds, 
casting  dark  shadows  far  out  over  the  water.  On  the 
other  side,  the  landscape  lay  in  a  soft  grayish  mist ;  a  light 
damp  west  wind  blew  over  the  water  toward  them.  They 
walked  along  for  a  while  silently,  gazing  at  the  broad 
landscape.  Finally  he  began  very  directly  to  tell  her 
about  his  father  and  mother,  his  childhood,  and  his  youth; 
then  he  went  on  to  tell  about  his  marriage,  and  for  what 
reasons  they  had  separated;  at  last  he  spoke  of  Doris 
Rotermund.  She  walked  along,  holding  his  hand,  with 
her  head  down. 

"  It  isn't  possible,"  he  said,  "  that  I  could  make  another 
mistake  like  the  first.  For  I  know  myself  now,  and  I 
know  a  woman ;  and  I  know  that  you  are  a  Avoman  after 
my  own  heart.  But  I  don't  exactly  know  how  you  feel 
about  it,  Sanna." 

"  It's  awfully  good  of  you  to  tell  me  all  that  so  natu- 
rally," she  said  approvingly,  in  a  low  voice.  "  That's  just 
what  mother  always  wrote  me  —  that  you  were  a  simple, 
absolutely  natural  person." 

"  So  your  mother  has  helped  my  cause  1  "  he  said. 

"  Of  course  she  has,"  Sanna  said.  "  She's  to  blame  for 
it,"  she  went  on,  as  if  she  were  saying,  "  Mother  sold  me 
for  a  hundred  marks." 

He  laughed.  "  That  isn't  true,  Sanna  Eschen,"  he  cried, 
shaking  her  hand.  She  took  it  all  in  a  pleased,  quiet  way, 
looking  straight  ahead  of  her  with  a  wise  smile. 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  375 

"Well,  now  to  go  back  to  our  own  business,"  he  said. 
"  Shall  I  ask  you  a  question  V  " 

"Goon." 

Holding  her  hand  in  a  gentle,  yet  firm  clasp,  he  said,  as 
they  walked  on,  "  Night  before  last,  on  the  stairs,  you  told 
me  your  love  experiences,  Sanna,  but  perhaps  you  left  out 
something.  Wait  —  don't  think  that  I  would  love  and 
respect  you  less  if  you  were  to  tell  me  now  that  you  had 
already  loved  some  one  else  passionately.  You  belong  to 
yourself,  just  as  everybody  else  does.  I'm  asking  you  this 
only  so  that  I  can  really  know  you,  and  so  that  you  won't 
perhaps  have  to  cherish  some  secret  with  anxiety  or  pos- 
sible twinges  of  conscience.  And  if  you  don't  want  to 
tell,  it  isn't  in  the  least  necessary." 

"  When  I  was  nineteen,"  she  began,  slowly  and  hesitat- 
ingly, "  I  went  to  Lene's  wedding  —  you  know,  you  met 
her  the  other  evening.  Among  the  guests  there  was  a 
relative  of  my  friend's,  a  married  man  who  had  come  back 
from  Chili  without  his  wife.  He  danced  with  me  a  great 
deal,  and  he  was  so  gay  and  sure  and  kind,  and  I  was  so 
full  of  animal  spirits  that  evening  —  well,  I  liked  him  too 
much.  And  once,  when  we  were  walking  along  an  out- 
of-the-way  passage  together  to  get  some  lady's  cloak,  he 
suddenly  seized  me  and  kissed  me  —  for  a  good  while.  I 
was  terribly  confused,  and  really  didn't  know  what  was 
the  matter  with  me — but  it  was  very  beautiful.  That's 
the  only  experience  I've  ever  had.  I  told  you  all  the  rest 
on  the  stairs." 

He  patted  her  hand.  "  Tell  me,"  he  said,  "  how  is  it 
that  you  could  change  over  in  one  evening  from  that  man 
you  did  love  to  me  ?  " 

She  looked  meditative  for  a  moment,  then  answered 
thoughtfully,  "  I  thought  about  that  afterward  myself,  and 
wondered  at  it.  But  I'm  not  made  so  that  I  can  love  only 
one  man ;  I  can  fall  in  love  with  any  one  of  the  many  that 
have  certain  qualities.  He  must  be  firm  and  assured, 
rather  taciturn,  decided  and  curt,  deferential,  and  yet 
rather  masterful.  And  then,  too,  of  course,  he  must  be 
reasonably  tall  and  tolerably  good  looking,  preferably  with 


376  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

light  hair.  When  I  get  acquainted  with  a  man  like  that 
—  and  there  are  plenty  of  them,  of  course  —  and  talk  to 
him  and  feel  that  that's  the  kind  he  is,  I  love  him.  I  sup- 
pose I've  met  at  least  thirty  men  whom  I  could  have  mar- 
ried almost  on  the  spot.  But  most  of  them  were  married 
already,  or  engaged;  and  the  others  either  didn't  like  me 
or  didn't  happen  to  see  me  again.  That's  the  way  I  am, 
and  I  can't  help  it.  But  I  really  believe  that  all  the  right 
sort  of  girls  are  that  way  —  that  is,  all  that  are  really 
healthy  and  broad." 

"  Broad  ?  "  he  asked.     "  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,"  she  said,  and  then  stopped. 

Then  she  went  on,  in  some  embarrassment,  "  Well  —  just 
kind  of  human  —  we  are  all  made  of  flesh  and  blood,  aren't 
we  ?  —  I  had  hardly  seen  a  man  the  whole  year  I  was  in 
England.  Then  when  I  came  home  and  went  to  that 
party  where  he  was,  I  realized  that  I  had  been  thinking  of 
him  a  whole  year.  And  I  imagined  that  he  would  be  just 
as  glad  as  I  was,  and  that  he  would  dance  with  me  a  great 
deal,  and  maybe  kiss  me.  Instead  of  that,  he  expressly 
avoided  me,  and  went  to  that  woman  right  before  my  eyes, 
too.  And  then  you  came,  and  you  were  so  kind  and 
cheery.  And  I  knew  a  good  many  nice  things  about  you  — 
and  about  everything  you  had  done  for  us.  And  then  you're 
such  a  good  dancer."  She  tried  to  look  at  him  roguishly, 
but  only  love  beamed  from  her  big,  serious  eyes.  She 
dropped  them  quickly,  passed  her  free  hand  over  her  brow 
and  temples,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  When  a  man  is 
nice  to  me,  my  love  grows  stronger  every  hour.  And  then 
I  can't  see  or  think  of  anything  but  just  him." 

He  pressed  the  hand  now  lying  more  lovingly  in  his. 
"  You've  been  wanting  a  husband  and  children  a  long  time, 
haven't  you,  Sanna?"  he  said. 

"I  didn't  know  much  about  it  up  to  the  time  I  was 
eighteen,"  she  said.  "  It  was  just  a  kind  of  general  feel- 
ing —  like  wanting  to  see  some  one  once  in  a  while —  and 
dance  with  him  —  and  speak  to  him  on  the  street  —  and 
hear  him  say  something  bright  —  and  at  the  very  most  let 
him  kiss  me  sometimes.     But  ever  since  that  man  kissed 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  377 

me  at  the  wedding,  —  though  I  would  probably  have  felt 
it  sometime  anyway,  —  ever  since  then  I've  longed  for  a 
husband  and  children.  Lying  in  bed  at  nights  I've  im- 
agined all  the  things  I'd  like  to  have :  a  fan,  a  new  walk- 
ing suit,  —  dark  blue,  tailor-made,  with  black  buttons,  — 
and  a  wardrobe  with  a  long  mirror  you  can  really  see  your- 
self in  before  you  go  out.  But  the  last  thing  I  wished  for 
just  before  I  went  to  sleep  was  always  a  nice  good  husband." 

"What  did  you  think  about  in  your  little  bed  last  night," 
Klaus  said,  "  after  I  had  talked  so  wildly  there  in  the 
dark  ?  " 

She  gave  him  a  quick  look.  Then,  looking  straight 
ahead,  she  said,  with  a  low  laugh,  "  I  just  thought,  '  This 
is  what  you  get  for  making  fun  of  him  all  these  years. 
Now  you  are  going  to  be  his  wife.' " 

Seeing,  in  the  pale  light,  that  her  coat  collar  was  turned 
up  a  little,  Klaus  arranged  it,  and  then  left  his  arm  around 
her  shoulder.  "  The  examination  isn't  finished  yet,"  he 
said. 

She  moved  a  little  rebelliously  in  his  arm,  and  looked 
saucily  at  the  lights  far  out  on  the  water.  "  Well,  what 
next?"  she  said. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  you've  still  got  to  answer  the  big  old 
question — what's  your  religion  ?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "I  don't  think  much 
about  it,"  she  said.  "  Not  a  single  soul  really  knows 
what  the  truth  of  the  matter  is.  •  I  once  made  a  resolve  to 
say  a  prayer  every  night,  and  I  still  do  it.  It  seems  to 
make  me  have  peaceful  thoughts.  But  that's  about  all  I 
can  say." 

"  And  I  can't  say  any  more!  "  said  Klaus.  "It's  too 
bad,  I  suppose,  but  it's  so." 

They  walked  along  for  a  while  in  silence,  looking  out 
over  the  wide  evening  landscape.  Both  were  of  those 
Mdio  have  lost  a  real  belief  in  the  old  revelation  of  the 
eternal,  and  who,  in  doubt  and  discouragement,  are 
alwaj's  seeking  a  new  one,  because  they  find  themselves 
still  between  birth  and  death,  between  good  and  evil. 

"  There's   one   thing  more,"    Klaus   said.      "  I  have  a 


378  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

mother  and  several  brothers  and  sisters.  They  are  simple 
people,  brought  up  in  very  different  surroundings  from 
yours,  Sanna  Eschen.  I  will  never  expect  or  even  want 
you  to  have  much  to  do  with  them.  You  are  marrying  me, 
not  my  family.  But  my  wife  must  be  able  to  treat  my 
mother  kindly,  when  she  comes  to  our  house  —  which  will 
happen  seldom  enough.  She  deserves  that  for  what  she's 
done  for  me  and  for  all  of  us." 

Sanna  gave  him  a  quick  look.  "  You  didn't  need  to 
say  that,"  she  said  curtly.  "  Whatever  pride  I  may  have 
is  for  fools  and  simpletons.  I'm  simple  and  natural  with 
simple,  natural  people." 

Passing  out  of  the  park  and  going  farther  down  toward 
the  shore,  they  reached  some  narrow  wooden  stairs  leading 
down  to  the  water.  Drawing  her  closer  to  him  as  they 
walked,  Klaus  said,  "  Shan't  we  go  down  here  and  walk 
along  the  shore  a  little  way  ?  " 

Her  face  and  manner  became  as  grave  and  stiff  as  they 
had  been  the  night  before,  when  she  saw  that  he  wanted 
to  kiss  her.  She  stood  still  and  hesitated.  Then,  hap- 
pening to  catch  sight  of  something  dark  cowering  in  the 
shrubbery  at  the  side,  she  bent  down  and  saw  a  little  girl 
of  about  six  kneeling  there  with  a  little  cat  beside  her. 
Glad  of  such  a  good  way  of  diverting  Klaus,  she  knelt 
down  quickly.   "  What  are  you  two  doing  here  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Mieze  ran  down  to  the  Elbe,"  said  the  little  girl 
hurriedly,  a  little  frightened,  "  and  I  went  to  get  her. 
We  just  climbed  up  this  far,  and  now  we're  tired." 

She  patted  the  two  tired  playmates,  and  said  they  were 
both  just  as  pretty  and  velvety  as  they  could  be.  Then 
she  had  to  get  up.     As  she  rose  she  pulled  at  her  collar. 

"  What's  the  matter?  Shall  I  help  ?  "  said  Klaus.  And 
quite  regardless  of  her  stiff  manner,  he  simply  put  his 
hand  inside  her  collar  and  felt  one  light  hair  which  had 
strangely  got  caught  inside  her  dress  in  front.  He  began 
to  pull  it  out  very  carefully,  and  pulled  and  pulled.  It 
was  very  long,  and  stretched  out  a  good  distance. 

She  got  redder  and  redder.  "  Stop  that  I  "  she  cried 
angrily.     "  You  take  a  lot  of  liberties  I  " 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  379 

"  I'm  very  sorry,"  he  said  laughingly. 

"  Sorry  !  "  slie  said,  looking  very  solemn. 

"  Come,  now,  let's  go  down  there." 

''^  I  will  not,''  she  snapped. 

But  he  calmly  turned  her  around  by  the  shoulder,  and 
led  her  down  the  narrow  dark  steps. 

When  it  became  very  dark,  in  among  the  high  bushes, 
she  said,  "  Do  you  know  whether  it's  low  tide  ?  If  it  isn't, 
we  can't  go  down  there." 

"  Of  course  I  know,"  he  said. 

"  Why  of  course  ?  "  she  said,  turning  on  him. 

By  her  tone  and  by  the  way  she  held  her  head,  he  saw 
that  she  was  in  a  very  contrary  mood.  With  a  short 
laugh,  he  led  her  on  down,  keeping  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder.  "  Because,"  he  said,  in  calm  good  humor, 
"  because  I  made  up  my  mind  before  I  left  the  house  to 
kiss  you  down  there.  It  doesn't  do  up  above  there  on 
account  of  the  people." 

She  said  nothing,  but  kept  perfectly  quiet  inside  his 
arm. 

When  they  had  got  out  into  the  light  again,  down  below, 
where  at  ebb  tide  there  is  a  rather  broad  strip  of  sandy 
beach  covered  with  willows  and  thin  reeds,  he  kissed  her 
on  the  hands  and  mouth.  She  stood  rather  stiffly  in  his 
arras,  looking  at  him  pale  and  solemn-eyed,  almost  hos- 
tilely.  He  let  go  her  arms,  took  her  head  in  his  hands, 
and  said  gravely,  "  Now  you  use  your  arms  for  what  they 
were  given  you  for —  Sanna  !  "" 

A  steamer  whistling  as  it  passed,  and  the  heavier  roll- 
ing of  the  water  prevented  her  from  hearing  him.  The 
wind  was  blowing  harder,  too.  "  Well,  have  I  passed  the 
whole  examination  ?  "  she  said. 

"  If  you  will  do  what  I  want  you  to  —  and  will  say 
'thou '  to  me." 

She  looked  at  him  again,  at  his  hair,  and  eyes,  and 
mouth,  —  gravely,  as  if  she  wanted  to  judge  everything 
about  him  very  critically  first.  Then,  with  a  winning 
sigh,  she  said,  "  Oh,  thou  —  with  that  obstinate  mouth  —  " 
and  she  put  her  arms  around  him  and  kissed  him. 


380  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

A  few  months  later,  on  the  evening  before  the  wedding, 
Klaus  was  in  Sanna's  room  with  Frau  Eschen,  packing  up 
her  little  library.  It  was  to  be  sent  over  that  evening  to 
the  apartment  he  had  rented  in  Blankenese.  Finally 
Frau  Eschen,  tired  with  her  day's  work,  sat  down  to  rest 
a  few  minutes.  Looking  up,  Klaus  saw  that  she  had  tears 
in  her  eyes. 

He  asked  if  it  was  hard  for  her  to  give  up  Banna. 

She  shook  her  head.  "  How  can  you  think  that  ?  "  she 
said.  "  I  wrote  to  her  about  you  often  while  she  was  in 
England,  just  because  I  wanted  her  to  think  well  of  you 
before  she  came  home  and  saw  you.  I  wanted  to  win  you 
for  the  firm,  and  for  Sanna,  and  for  me.  The  three  of  ua 
need  a  strong  man's  help.  I'm  crying  because  she  is  en- 
tering married  life,  and  will  bear  children  and  bring  them 
up ;   I  have  left  all  that  behind  me." 

Klaus  Baas  went  on  packing,  thinking  of  his  first  mar- 
riage, when  the  bride's  mother  had  wept  too,  —  but  be- 
cause she  was  sorry  for  her  child,  and  was  losing  her. 
"  You've  been  a  real  woman,  mother,"  he  said,  "  and  you 
are  still.  And  Sanna's  exactly  like  you,  and  I'm  inex- 
pressibly glad  of  it.  You  will  often  come  out  to  see  us, 
and  be  happy  with  Sanna  and  the  children." 

Sanna  came  in  just  then,  and  her  mother  went  out. 

"  What  was  mother  crying  for  ?  "  she  asked,  in  concern. 

"  It  grieves  her  to  think  that  you  are  going  to  be  a 
man's  wife  and  have  children,"  he  said,  "  because,  you  see, 
that's  all  over  for  her." 

She  came  inside  his  arm  in  her  decided  way.  "  Well," 
she  said,  "  I  surprise  you  sometimes  —  but  see,  I  have  a 
mother  that's  just  the  same.  I  can  understand  what  she 
means  absolutely  and  —  just  look  out,  it  will  be  the  same 
with  me."  Then,  raising  herself  a  little,  she  put  both 
arms  around  him.  And  looking  happily  into  his  face,  she 
said,  in  her  healthy,  straightforward  Hamburg  way,  "  I'm 
glad  we're  as  far  along  as  this !  " 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

It  was  a  time  of  flourishing  business  in  Hamburg.  The 
power  of  the  lately  united  peoples  was  expanding  like  a 
good  tree  transplanted  from  a  shady  place  out  into  the 
sunlight.  The  younger  generation  of  merchants  was 
pouring  out  from  Hamburg  into  England,  China,  South 
America,  and  many  other  places,  offering  their  goods  and 
continually  sending  new  contracts  back  home.  Encour- 
aged by  the  increased  demand,  the  small  manufacturer  set 
up  bench  after  bench,  anvil  after  anvil,  loom  after  loom. 
And  now  the  overflow  from  the  lowlands  —  and  unfor- 
tunately more  than  the  overflow  —  instead  of  emigrating 
beyond  the  seas,  came  to  people  the  enlarged  factories. 
Hundreds  and  thousands  from  Holstein,  Hannover,  and 
Mecklenburg  were  now  moving  to  Hamburg,  instead  of 
going  across  the  seas,  as  they  had  been  doing  for  many 
years.  Soon  the  gardens,  meadows,  and  cornfields  all 
around  the  big  old  town  were  laid  out  with  long  streets. 
Sailors  coming  home  after  a  year's  cruise  on  the  big  boats 
sailing  to  Sydney  and  the  western  coast  of  America  almost 
lost  their  way  in  the  confusion  of  new  qua3^s.  Men  from 
abroad  coming  back  to  visit  their  firms  after  ten  years  or 
so,  and  to  enjoy  the  old  life  at  home  and  see  the  familiar 
Alster,  were  fairly  astounded  at  the  big  buildings  around 
the  water  front,  and  at  the  throngs  of  men  crowding  along 
the  Jungfernstieg  when  work  was  over  at  night. 

With  his  strong,  sensuous  nature  satisfied,  Klaus  Baas 
now  had  his  energy  at  command.  His  old  peasant  stock, 
in  which  zeal  for  work  and  responsibility  have  always  been 
the  chief  virtues,  had  also  bequeathed  to  him  a  certain 
craftiness,  and  the  careful  energetic  way  of  stepping  out 
that  characterizes  a  good  horse  in  the  spring,  after  months 

381 


382  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

of  confinement  in  the  stable.  All  these  things  made  hira 
bring  new  aims  and  schemes  into  the  somewhat  loosely 
managed  business  in  which  he  was  now  a  partner. 

Klaus  had  among  his  acquaintances  a  capable  young 
fellow  belonging  to  an  old  mercantile  house  in  Liibeck. 
Since  his  father's  office,  which  had  been  connected  for  two 
hundred  years  with  Riga  and  St.  Petersburg,  was  becom- 
ing too  limited  in  its  operations  for  the  young  man,  who 
wanted  to  win  back  the  old-time  Hanseatic  glory  along  the 
Yellow  Sea,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  Shanghai  and 
make  himself  independent  there.  He  approached  Klaus 
for  a  recommendation  to  a  large  firm  operating  there. 
Klaus  convinced  his  brother-in-law  that  they  might  take 
up  the  project  themselves.  He  got  together  more  capital 
and  skilfully  set  the  thing  going.  It  was  the  time  when 
the  interior  of  China  was  beginning  to  want  all  kinds  of 
products  of  civilization.  The  young  man  from  Liibeck 
seized  the  opportune  moment,  and  being  a  capable  and 
ambitious  fellow,  worked  with  such  good  results  that  the 
sample  room  of  H.  C.  Eschen  was  soon  full  of  all  kinds  of 
specimens  of  loom  and  metal  industries,  paints,  and  chemi- 
cals. It  might,  indeed,  have  been  a  store  along  the 
Yangtse.  Soon  the  Shanghai  business  was  quite  as  im- 
portant as  the  other. 

Klaus  was  often  vexed  at  his  brother-in-law's  desultory 
way  of  working,  and  still  more  at  his  way  of  frequently  leav- 
ing early,  or,  as  happened  even  oftener,  of  staying  away 
altogether.  After  Arthur  Eschen  realized  that  the  fresh, 
alert  workman  at  the  desk  next  to  his  was  really  working  for 
his  affairs,  his  somewhat  facile  nature  gave  itself  up  more 
and  more  to  trifling.  He  had  a  quick  way,  characteristic 
of  men  in  large  cities,  of  discussing  everything  he  saw  and 
heard  —  business  affairs,  politics,  people,  arts,  and  sports 
—  somewhat  drolly  and  flippantly.  The  result  was  that 
he  did  not  think  about  or  observe  deeply  any  one  thing, 
no  matter  how  important  it  was.  He  was  much  interested 
in  anything  that  had  to  do  with  art,  pictures  and  bronzes 
in  particular,  and  especially  those  that  Paris  produced. 
Every  year  he  and  his  wife  spent  several  weeks  there  in 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  383 

a  very  gossipy,  superficial  study  of  art.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  they  simply  indulged  themselves  in  the  luxury  and 
activity  of  a  finished  civilization,  in  a  place  where  Frau 
Eschen  could  display  more  elegant  toilettes  than  the 
upright  wife  of  a  Hamburg  merchant  usually  affects. 
Klaus  Baas,  deeply  rooted  in  his  old  peasant  ideas  of  civili- 
zation, like  all  simple,  strong-willed  people  of  large  pur- 
pose, saw  life  in  three  or  four  divisions  —  as,  business, 
family,  life  abroad,  and  death.  He  was  narrow  enough  to 
term  all  this  love  of  art  and  travel  childishness,  a  great 
nuisance,  or,  when  work  was  pressing,  tomfoolery.  He 
called  his  brother-in-law's  attention  to  the  fact  that  the 
great  amount  of  credit  made  necessary  by  the  expansion 
of  their  business  was  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  family 
fortune.  There  was  a  possibility,  therefore,  that  the  diffi- 
culties they  had  just  passed  through  might  recur.  In  view 
of  this,  Klaus  urged  him  to  increase  his  own  funds  by 
managing  his  household  more  economically,  as  Klaus  him- 
self was  doing,  and  intended  to  do.  Arthur  Eschen  said, 
however,  that  the  credit  of  the  firm  was  satisfactorily  as- 
sured now,  and  that  the  old  distinction  of  the  family 
demanded  keeping  up  appearances.  And  although  he  did 
not  entirely  reject  Klaus's  advice,  he,  and  especially  his 
wife,  took  care  that  there  should  be  little  change  in  their 
usual  restless,  unsubstantial  way  of  living. 

Klaus  himself  lived  with  Sanna  in  a  little  house  in  the 
upper  part  of  Blankenese.  From  their  low  windows  they 
could  look  out  over  a  tiny  flower  garden,  past  the  branches 
of  an  old  broken  linden,  and  see  a  little  bit  of  the  Elbe. 
They  saw  very  few  people.  Klaus,  like  most  people  whose 
childhood  and  education  have  been  somewhat  narrow,  was 
rather  stiff  and  correct  in  his  manner.  Sometimes,  again, 
among  people  he  knew  well,  he  came  out  clumsily  with 
rather  absolute  opinions  :  Sanna  called  this  his  "  Heister- 
berg  talk."  Now  and  then  they  went  to  see  the  old  couple 
in  whose  house  they  had  met  again.  They  made  friends, 
too,  with  a  young  couple  of  an  old,  refined  family.  These 
new  friends  evidently  found  great  pleasure  in  Klaus's  stiff 
punctiliousness  and  his  vigorous  way  of  bursting  through 


384  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

it  sometimes,  and  in  the  refreshing  quality  and  refinement 
of  his  wife.  Beyond  this  circle,  Banna  had  her  mother, 
and  Klaus  his  business  acquaintances. 

Sanna  was  very  happy  in  the  new  married  life.  She 
knew  how  to  manage  a  house  well,  and  went  through  the 
little  rooms  in  confident  good  humor,  planning  this  or 
that.  She  had  joked  a  little  at  first  about  how  funny  it 
was  that  such  a  boastful  man,  with  such  a  high-sounding 
name,  should  live  in  such  a  tiny  house,  and  make  his  wife 
buy  such  simple,  scanty  furniture.  She  got  rather  pro- 
voked sometimes  when  she  could  not  make  any  impression 
on  him  by  telling  him  that  so  and  so  lived  much  better 
than  they  did.  And  it  vexed  her  that  he  made  short  shrift 
of  so  many  things  in  the  world,  and  dismissed  them  as 
foolishness  ;  and  because  he  sometimes  spoke  harshly  and 
disapprovingly  of  her  brother,  and  didn't  seem  to  under- 
stand Uncle  Eberhard  at  all.  But  when  he  explained  to 
her  again  that  the  condition  of  the  business  was  growing 
more  and  more  critical,  and  that  they  must  both  save  in 
order  to  increase  the  available  capital,  and  that  they  were 
doing  it  with  a  view  to  their  old  age  and  their  children, 
the  zeal  and  pride  characteristic  of  her  good  old  Hamburg 
stock  came  to  the  fore,  and  Sanna  saved  every  cent  she 
could.  She  did  her  own  sewing,  watched  for  bargains  at 
the  big  stores,  and  held  solemn  discussions  with  her  maid. 
In  short,  she  conducted  herself  like  a  marvellously  sen- 
sible woman  pulling  at  the  same  rope  as  her  husband. 

Besides,  there  was  little  call  for  her  to  concern  herself 
outside  her  home,  for  she  was  very  soon  pregnant.  She 
accepted  her  condition  good-humoredly,  "  considering  what 
it  was  for,"  as  she  said. 

One  day,  not  long  before  the  baby  came,  Klaus  came 
home  to  find  her  reading  a  book,  nestling  in  the  corner  of 
the  sofa  much  as  Doris  Rotermund  once  had  done.  She 
held  out  her  hand  over  the  book  without  looking  up,  or 
saying  anything.  When,  as  usual,  he  pulled  her  hand  to 
make  her  shoulders  move,  she  said  gravely,  "  Don't  disturb 
me,  Klaus  ;  I'm  reading  Shakespeare's  historical  plays." 

Amazed,  Klaus  sat  down  beside  her,  threw  away  the 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  385 


book,  and  declaring  that  he  was  a  good  deal  more  impor- 
tant than  Shakespeare  was,  put  his  arms  around  her. 
"  How  did  you  happen  on  Shakespeare  all  at  once  ?  "  he 
asked. 

She  raised  herself  a  little,  and  putting  her  arm  around 
his  shoulder,  said,  "  Well,  you  see,  I'm  sometimes  a  little 
bit  afraid  —  I'm  just  trying  to  cheer  myself  up." 

"  With  those  tragedies  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  said.  "  You  see,  there's  so  much  that's 
big  and  terrilDle  in  them  that  you  get  big  and  powerful 
yourself  as  you  read  them  ;  and  then  you  aren't  afraid  any 
more." 

Again  Klaus  was  secretly  amazed.  "  Would  a  Holstein 
woman  ever  have  thought  of  reading  Shakespeare's  plays 
in  order  to  get  courage  for  her  confinement  ?  "  he  thought. 
Praising  her,  he  said,  "  Well,  just  you  get  as  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  plays  as  you  can  —  for  when  you  have 
seven  children,  you  won't  have  time." 

"I  want  six,"  she  said,  "  no  more." 

The  child,  longed  for,  and  conceived  and  awaited  in  love, 
was  brought  into  the  world  with  little  pain  and  danger. 
She  brought  it  up  with  the  greatest  pleasure.  Babies 
were  "  too  sweet  for  anything,"  she  said, "  heavenly,"  "  sweet 
as  sugar,"  "  ever  so  cute."  She  called  it  all  the  names  she 
had  ever  picked  up  in  her  school  and  seminary  days.  And 
because  she  liked  babies  so  much,  they  came  rapidly  ;  first 
Klaus  Baas,  then  Shakespeare, '  then  —  "  Oh,  well,  Klaus, 
babies  are  so  nice,"  and  then  another  one.  The  plays  were 
read  three  times  within  four  years  ;  and  Sanna  went  into 
society  very  little. 

Finally  they  did  begin  to  go  out,  to  her  mother's,  or 
to  Arthur  Eschen's  in  Harvestehude,  or  to  see  a  cousin. 
Sanna  sometimes  took  Klaus  to  task  because  he  had  been 
too  silent  ;  or  because  he  hadn't  talked  to  this  or  that 
person  ;  or  because  he  had  looked  so  cold  and  sceptical  ; 
or  because  when  he  did  talk,  he  had  been  too  condescend- 
ing. And  Klaus,  looking  at  her  calmly,  in  a  little  surprise, 
assented  to  all  that  she  said,  a  little  scornfully,  she  thought, 
as  if  to  say,  "Oh,  you  and  your  people!  "  He  treated  it 
2c 


386  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

all  as  the  merest  trifle.  That  made  her  very  cross,  for 
she  believed  in  good  form,  she  said,  and  knew  how  people 
ought  to  behave.  What  went  ahead  of  an  old  Hamburg 
merchant  family,  anyway  ?  She  knew  what  good  form 
was;  and  she  knew  the  world. 

Once  they  got  into  a  real  quarrel  on  this  point.  They 
were  coming  home  from  an  evening  company  at  the  home 
of  a  cousin  who  lived  out  toward  Winterhude,  which  was 
being  built  up  a  good  deal  at  that  time.  It  seemed  that 
Klaus  had  again  not  conducted  himself  well.  Klaus  an- 
swered her  calmly,  asking,  with  a  gesture  as  if  he  were  pre- 
senting the  question  on  a  tray,  "  Would  you  like  me  to  be 
like  your  cousin  —  or  like  your  brother  ?  Would  you  be 
happier  then  ?  Don't  you  think  I  have  done  well  enough, 
although  I  haven't  concerned  myself  about  the  theatre  and 
bronzes  and  social  elegance  ?  Did  I  deceive  you  by  play- 
ing the  part  of  a  man  of  the  world  and  a  society  leader  be- 
fore we  were  married  ?  Or  did  I  tell  you  straight  out  that 
I  was  a  business  man  and  would  give  you  children  and  a 
safe,  comfortable  home  ?  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  like 
you  just  as  you  are.  A  real  true  woman  ought  to  be  sensi- 
tive, pure,  and  kindly,  and  you  are  all  of  these.  But  some- 
times you  have  an  interfering,  aggressive  way  of  trying  to 
drive  my  wagon  for  me.  Isn't  it  running  all  right  ?  Is 
it  ridiculous  ?  Have  you  ever  seen  any  one  laughing  at 
it?  I've  made  a  firm  determination  just  to  stay  myself. 
And  you  be  yourself,  too,  Sanna  Eschen.  And  now  that's 
all  I'm  going  to  say.  Go  to  bed  and  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self." 

She  stood  leaning  stiffly  against  the  side  of  the  bedroom 
door,  listening  to  him  gravely,  without  moving  or  saying  a 
word.  When  he  had  finished,  she  still  stood  there  awhile, 
looking  at  him  in  the  same  way.  When  he  looked  at  her, 
she  turned  and  went  into  the  bedroom. 

He  heard  her  moving  silently  around,  getting  ready  for 
bed.  At  last,  when  everything  was  quiet,  he  went  in  and 
went  to  bed  too. 

After  a  while  she  got  tired  —  a  woman  likes  to  give  in, 
if  she  has  the  best  of  it,  but  she  doesn't  like  to  be  beaten. 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  387 

She  raised  her  head  cautiously  and  propped  it  on  her  hand. 
After  lying  that  way  for  a  while,  she  said  cautiously, 
"  Klaus  Baas  ?  "  and  waited  breathless. 

When  nothing  happened,  she  ventured  again.  Klaus 
could  detect  the  slight  uncertainty  as  she  said,  "  I've 
married  a  real  peasant."     She  waited  again. 

When  even  then  nothing  happened,  she  said,  "  How  can 
a  man  be  so  rude  to  his  wife  ?  "  Nothing  but  absolute 
silence. 

Finally  she  said,  "  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself  now  ?" 

That  made  him  laugh.  Although  she  spat  like  a  hyena, 
—  she  had  studied  it  at  the  Zoological  Gardens,  and  her 
children  imitated  it  already,  —  he  drew  her  to  him,  and  she 
lay  there,  reconciled  and  good-humored.  His  assurance 
and  his  big  talk  were  the  very  things  she  loved  in  him,  the 
more  because  her  attacks  on  them  were  so  vain  ;  and  he 
loved  most  in  her  her  obstinate  aggressive  way,  and  her 
positiveness. 

Klaus  seldom  went  to  see  his  mother.  She  had  told  him 
at  once  that  after  he  had  been  in  the  city  all  day,  he  ought 
to  spend  his  evenings  and  his  Sundays  with  his  wife  and 
children.  Then  he  besought  her  to  come  out  to  see  them 
at  least  every  two  weeks.  She  had  to  give  in — for  as  she 
grew  older  she  was  becoming  absolutely  docile  with  him. 
So  she  came,  in  her  plain  dark  gray  dress,  with  a  light 
black  silk  scarf  over  her  head,  like  those  worn  by  elderly 
women  in  her  native  place.  Whenever  it  was  possible,  she 
came  in  the  evening,  when  Klaus  had  come  home  from  the 
city  and  the  children  were  being  put  to  bed.  One  evening, 
when  he  was  waiting  for  his  train  at  the  Dammtor  station, 
he  saw  her  standing  off  at  the  side,  looking,  with  calm, 
critical  eyes,  at  the  people  standing  around  waiting  for  the 
train.  He  purposely  walked  past  her  several  times,  pre- 
tending not  to  see  her  ;  she  drew  a  little  farther  back  and 
stood  there  inconspicuously  as  before.  Then  he  went  up 
to  her. 

"  You  were  hiding  from  me,"  he  said  threateningly. 
"  I  didn't  think  you  would  want  to  recognize  me,"  she 
said,  teasing  him. 


388  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

He  gripped  her  arm  more  tightly,  "  Are  you  trying  to 
tell  a  fib,  too  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Go  away,  boy,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  Why  should 
people  see  us  together  ?  " 

He  smiled.  "  You  just  come  along  with  me,  or  I'll  kiss 
you  here  on  the  spot,"  he  said. 

Then  she  went  with  him  and  rode  with  him  to  Blank- 
enese.  When  they  got  there,  she  sat  in  the  nursery  and 
looked  on  gravely  while  the  children  were  being  undressed. 
She  did  not  make  up  to  them  any  more  than  they  offered 
to.  And  with  excessive  politeness  she  asked  Sanna,  "  Do 
you  mind  if  the  child  does  this  or  that  ?  "  every  time, 
before  she  did  what  they  wanted  her  to.  She  never 
indicated  by  a  single  word  that  such  or  such  a  thing 
about  the  house  struck  her  as  either  right  or  wrong  ;  in 
fact,  she  seemed  to  see  nothing  but  the  children.  The  re- 
sult was  that  Sanna  liked  to  have  the  quiet,  reserved 
visitor. 

"  You  must  have  been  an  awfully  bad  boy  to  get  so  many 
whippings,"  she  said  to  Klaus  Baas,  "because  your  mother 
is  so  just.  But  still  I  can  believe  it,  for  you're  still  in- 
credibly obstinate." 

He  laughed.  "Her  justice  was  a  little  one-sided  then," 
he  said ;  "  and  I  guess  you  got  a  good  many  whippings, 
too,  in  the  course  of  a  day.  You're  still  incredibly 
obstinate." 

Klaus  never  saw  any  of  his  old  acquaintances,  nor  did  he 
look  them  up.  Once  in  a  while,  at  the  Exchange,  or  on 
the  street,  he  had  a  brief  handshake  from  some  one  he  had 
met  during  his  apprenticeship,  or  in  India,  or  when  he 
was  living  in  the  country.  And  once  in  a  while  in  Blank- 
enese  he  got  a  greeting  from  a  brown-faced  sailor,  or  a 
smile  from  a  captain's  wife.  Two  or  three  times  a  year  he 
ran  into  Heini  Peters.  The  household  goods  business  had 
not  lasted  very  long,  and  he  had  taken  another  position 
as  clerk.  That  hadn't  gone  very  well  either,  because 
Heini  was  too  talkative  and  undecided.  Now  he  was  em- 
ployed in  one  of  the  city  administration  bureaus.  He  was 
still  wearing  the  long  black  coat,  which  had  grown  rather 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  389 

shiny,  but  for  the  high  hat  —  the  regular  merchant's  hel- 
met —  he  had  substituted  a  slouch  hat,  the  general  char- 
acter of  which  corresponds  well  with  a  gentle  decline  in 
prospects,  and  almost  indicates  it.  Whenever  Heini  met 
him  he  talked  as  enthusiastically  and  loyally  as  ever  about 
his  native  town  and  about  old  acquaintances  and  about 
his  plan  for  honoring  the  graves  of  certain  others  who 
had  been  related  to  his  great  poet.  Sometimes,  when  he 
was  joking  about  himself  and  his  friend,  he  liked  to  fall 
into  his  beloved  Low  German  —  "Ick  verdeen  Dags  'n 
Daler,  Klaas  !  Denk  mal:  een  ganzen  Daler!  Du  biist 
'n  andern  Kerl,  Klaas  Hinrich!  'n  bannigen  Kerl!  Du 
biist  'n  Tiger  !  "  ^  They  walked  along  a  little  way  together 
and  then  separated.  Klaus  had  invited  him  to  Sun- 
day dinner  once,  and  had  enjoyed*  thinking  of  the  rather 
aristocratic  look  of  surprise  that  would  come  over  Sauna's 
face  when  she  saw  him,  for  Sauna  had  very  little  under- 
standing of  slouch  hats  and  geniuses.  But  when  Heini 
refused  the  invitation,  that  suited  Klaus  Baas  pretty  well, 
for  he  was  not  looking  after  old  acquaintances.  What  had 
he  to  do  with  Heini  Peters  ? 

One  rainy  late  afternoon  in  June,  as  Klaus  was  coming 
up  from  the  harbor  where  he  had  been  supervising  the 
loading  of  a  valuable  consignment,  he  saw  Heini  Peters 
walking  from  the  Steintor  toward  the  Glockengiesser- 
wall.  In  the  same  old  clothes,  with  the  slouch  hat  far 
back  on  his  head,  he  was  walking  along  under  an  old 
umbrella,  carrying  a  big  funeral  wreath.  Curious  as  to 
the  meaning  of  the  wreath,  Klaus  Baas  went  up  to  shake 
hands  with  him. 

"  Well,"  he  said  to  Heini,  "  where  are  you  bound  for  ?  " 
Pointing  up  the  Glockengiesserwall,  Heini  said  sol- 
emnly, "To  St.  George's  cemetery,  Klaus!  Everything 
there  is  being  dug  up  and  laid  waste  because  the  new  ter- 
minal station  is  to  be  there.  I  brought  forward  a  motion 
to  have  the  body  of  our  great  poet's  sweetheart,  who  lies 

1  "I  earn  a  dollar  a  day,  Klaiis  !  Just  think,  a  whole  dollar  !  You're 
another  kind  of  chap,  Klaas  Hinrich  !  You're  a  terrible  fellow  !  You're 
a  tiger  1" 


390  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

there,  transferred  to  another  grave  in  Ohlsdorf.  The 
motion  was  approved,  Klaus.  And  the  sacred  deed  is 
about  to  take  place."  Heini  was  in  a  state  of  absolute 
bliss;  there  was  a  soft,  tender  light  in  his  wise,  kind  eyes. 
"Only  think  of  it,"  he  said,  "his  dear  little  sweetheart! 
She  was  the  one  that  was  nearest  and  dearest  to  him  for 
ten  long  years,  the  years  when  he  went  through  the  most, 
too.     She  was  the  only  one  he  had." 

Suddenly  it  began  to  rain,  and  Klaus  Baas  put  up  his 
umbrella.  "  Suppose  people  tried  to  make  such  a  fuss 
about  all  the  sweethearts  Hamburg  merchants  have  or 
have  had,  Heini!  "  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  Just  think  of 
that,  pray !  " 

Heini  Peters  made  a  gesture  calculated  to  wipe  the 
whole  force  of  Hamburg  merchants  out  of  his  way.  "  Don't 
be  profane,"  he  said.  "  What  is  a  kind  of  coffee-bag  like  you 
in  comparison  with  this  man!  But  you  don't  understand 
anything  about  that.  You  read  him  once,  of  course,  and 
I  guess  you  read  him  pretty  thoroughly.  But  you  don't 
know  anything  about  the  real  soul  in  his  books  or  in  his 
life."  Heini  went  on  to  tell  what  difficulties  he  had  had  in 
arranging  things,  and  how  at  last  he  had  got  two  senators 
to  be  present  at  the  ceremony.  "  Just  think,  Klaus  —  sup- 
pose the  old  girl  could  know  that  —  that  a  Hamburg  sen- 
ator was  going  to  be  at  her  grave  —  perhaps  two  of  them! 
How  her  transfigured  spirit  will  rejoice  at  the  honor  done 
her  in  this  hour!  See,  this  is  the  way  we  go — you'll  come 
too,  won't  you,  to  celebrate  this  deed  of  pious  remem- 
brance? The  service  won't  last  more  than  half  an  hour 
at  the  most.  And  not  a  soul  is  observing  us!  If  they 
knew  what  we  are  about,  they  would  all  stop  to  watch  us; 
indeed,  I  think  they  would  join  us." 

Again  Klaus  Baas  shrugged  his  shoulders  sceptically. 
"  Heini,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "  I  hardly  think  they  would. 
Most  of  the  people  walking  around  here  would  say,  'What  ? 
a  poet  ?  what  have  we  got  to  do  with  a  poet  ?  '  And  the 
rest  would  say, '  Leave  her  lying  where  she  is  now.  We've 
got  trouble  enough  with  living  folks.'" 

Heini  Peters  looked  around  him.     "  Do  you  really  think 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  391 

so?"  he  said,  uncertainly.  Then,  taking  heart  again,  he 
went  on  more  confidently.  "  But  the  spirits  of  all  the 
mighty  dead,  and  the  best  of  the  living,  commend  us  and 
accompany  us  on  this  pilgrimage." 

Klaus  Baas  had  his  doubts  about  that  too,  but  not  wish- 
ing to  spoil  Heini's  mood,  he  kept  quiet. 

They  reached  the  worn  old  gray  gate  of  the  cemetery 
and  passed  along  an  overgrown  path  into  a  place  of  green 
and  sheltered  peace.  Elder  branches  overhung  the  road, 
and  heavy  jasmine  boughs  gleamed  white.  Over  graves 
long  since  sunken  leaned  crooked  gravestones  with  dande- 
lions and  forget-me-nots  growing  around  them  ;  over  tall 
crosses  ivy  climbed  in  thick  clusters.  Humming-birds  and 
bees  buzzed  among  the  thick  green.  Here  and  there  stood 
a  silent  yew.  Heavy  raindrops  kept  falling,  every  one  of 
them  making  a  separate  splash.  And  now,  in  this  very 
place  of  silence,  stands  the  busiest,  noisiest  concern  in 
northern  Germany.  All  day  and  all  night,  above  ground 
and  below  it,  goes  on  the  unceasing  whirring  and  rattling, 
thumping  and  shrieking,  rumbling  and  whistling,  of  a  great 
terminal  station. 

Passing  around  a  big  branching  linden  that  blocked  the 
path,  they  brushed  through  the  tall  tendrils  of  a  wild  rose- 
bush and  reached  a  small  sunken  building  with  tall  grass 
around  it  and  elder  and  syringa  leaning  against  the  crum- 
bling walls.  There  they  found  a  whitehaired  old  work- 
man sitting  on  a  freshly  tarred  box.  He  had  his  spade  in 
one  hand,  and  in  the  other  a  bottle,  from  which  he  was  just 
taking  a  good  swig. 

"  Well,  Meier,"  said  Heini  Peters,  solemnly,  "  you're 
here,  are  you?     Then  suppose  we  go  and  open  the  grave." 

Turning  around  a  little  on  the  box,  the  old  man  pointed 
his  spade  at  a  rotten,  blackened  coffin  board,  on  which  lay 
a  poor  little  heap  of  dust  and  decayed  bones.  "  There  she 
is,  Peters,"  he  said. 

Heini  Peters's  face  fell,  and  his  eyes  grew  big.  "  That  ?  " 
he  said.     "  Are  you  sure,  Meier  ?  " 

The  old  man  had  got  his  pipe  out  of  his  pocket  and  was 
pressing  the  tobacco  down  with  his  finger.      "  Yes,  I'm 


392  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

sure,"  he  said.  "  It's  the  right  number.  She  was  a  very 
small  person,  Peters." 

More  and  more  puzzled,  Heini  Peters  gazed  at  the 
wretched,  remarkably  small  heap  of  decaying  bones,  a  few 
pieces  of  the  skull,  a  little  brown  hair,  a  few  other  bones 
and  bits  of  coffin  —  all  mingled  with  a  little  earth,  on  the 
board.  Finding  his  tongue  at  last,  he  looked  up  and  said, 
«  Where  is  the  coffin,  Meier  ?  " 

The  old  man  tapped  the  box  he  was  sitting  on. 

"  Do  you  mean  she's  to  go  in  that  box?  " 

The  old  man  nodded. 

"  When  are  the  other  gentlemen  coming,  Meier  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  them,"  said  the  old  man. 
"  There's  no  one  coming,  Peters." 

Heini  Peters  shook  his  head.  "  Well !  "  he  said.  Then 
looking  again  at  the  i30or  little  remains,  he  slowly  recovered 
himself.  "  That  is  she  !  "  he  said.  "  Mercy,  how  little 
she  was,  Klaus  !  What  a  remarkably  tiny  person  !  But 
this  woman  here  gave  her  love  to  that  tall,  square-built 
man,  when  he  lived  here,  unknown  and  poor.  And  many 
a  time  she  fed  him  ;  for  he  was  hungry,  too.  No  one  in 
the  whole  big  city  was  his  friend.  Not  another  soul  offered 
him  love  and  bread  as  did  this  poor,  elderly  little  seam- 
stress. That  is  why  he  clung  to  her.  He  would  certainly 
have  liked  to  have  a  more  aristocratic  and  beautiful  woman, 
Klaus ;  for  he  was  a  tall,  handsome  man,  even  if  his  clothes 
weren't  good,  and  he  had  a  proud  spirit,  and  taste,  too. 
Ah,  Klaus,  what  must  this  wise  little  woman  have  endured 
when  she  met  that  great  unhappy  soul  somewhere  one  day 
—  somewhere  on  the  street,  perhaps,  maybe  up  there  on 
the  Glockengiesserwall,  on  the  steps  of  some  house,  or  in 
her  father's  workshop.  It  was  no  easy  guest  that  lay  drink- 
ing her  coffee  there  in  her  little  sewing  room.  And  then 
when  she  bore  him  children  !  He  was  not  there  when  she 
bore  the  children,  nor  when  she  laid  them  in  their  little 
coffins.  By  that  time  he  was  able  to  be  gay,  and  almost 
grotesquely  merry  somewhere  abroad,  in  spite  of  his  poy- 
ert}',  harshness,  and  strangeness.  And  with  his  place  in 
the  world  a  little  more  assured,  he  was  able  to  take  pleasure 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  393 

in  more  than  one  young  woman.  But  when  he  sat  down 
to  write  to  this  little  creature,  —  look,  to  this  poor  little 
soul  here  —  he  wrote  letters  that  were  sharp,  tormenting, 
terrible.  Holofernes  let  loose  on  a  little  seamstress !  At 
last  they  became  so  dreadful  that  his  friend  burned  them, 
so  that  they  would  not  stain  his  image  —  the  image  of 
the  great  poet.  Falsehood,  Klaus,  all  falsehood  and  lies  ! 
We've  got  to  take  people  exactly  as  they  are ;  and  we 
must  blame  and  admire  and  sympathize,  all  at  once,  with 
the  great  souls  of  the  world.  Oh,  mad  and  noble  poet ! 
Oh,  the  woe  of  the  poet's  existence  !  The  fate  of  a  too 
proud  soul  in  this  philistine  world.  And  alas,  thou  poor 
sweetheart  of  his !  Ah,  Klaus,  how  frightfully  checkered 
is  this  life  of  ours  !  And  see,  Klaus,  even  if  this  woman 
did  not  deserve  a  monument  for  loving  and  feeding  the 
poet,  we  might  well  give  her  one  as  a  testimony  to  all  the 
innumerable  dear  women  whom  we  self-seeking  men  have 
taken  possession  of  just  because  we  happened  to  need 
them.  Why  isn't  anybody  at  all  here,  Meier?  I  was  sure 
at  least  one  senator  would  come  !  " 

The  old  man  raised  his  pipe  mournfully.  "  I  don't 
know,  Peters,"  he  said. 

Klaus  Baas  shrugged  his  shoulders  under  the  um- 
brella. "  You  say  the  poet  didn't  concern  himself  about 
her  !  "  he  said.     "  How  could  you  expect  a  senator  to  ?  " 

Heini  Peters  bent  solicitously  over  the  poor  little  re- 
mains, which  the  gently  falling  rain  was  slowly  washing. 
Picking  up  a  small  smooth  bone,  still  fairly  white,  a  part 
of  one  of  tlie  fingers  of  the  right  hand,  he  wiped  it  off  on 
the  wet  grass  and  stuck  it  in  his  vest  pocket.  "  Then  I 
am  going  to  put  the  remains  in  the  box,"  he  said,  in  a 
broken  voice.  "  Sit  down  over  there,  Meier.  I  will  do  it 
all  by  myself." 

Rising  from  the  box,  the  old  man  sat  down  on  an  old 
coffin  stool  on  the  sunken  threshold,  took  a  sip  from  his 
flask,  and  proceeded  to  watch  Heini  Peters.  Klaus  Baas 
held  the  umbrella  over  Heini  while  he  collected  the 
bones. 

When  everything  was  in  the  box,  Heini  Peters  and  the 


394  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

old  man  carried  it  to  the  gate,  where  a  hearse  was  waiting. 
They  lifted  the  box  in,  and  then  Heini  Peters  seated 
himself  on  the  floor  beside  it,  where  he  was  sheltered 
from  the  rain.  "There  is  still  another  near  relative  of 
our  poet  around  here,"  he  said.  "  He  is  a  sailor,  and  he's 
a  little  coarse  and  vulgar  now.  I  believe  I'll  look  him 
up  ;  I  think  I'll  get  him  all  right.  She's  going  to  have 
an  awfully  pretty  resting  place  in  Ohlsdorf,  Klaus,  and 
she  will  get  her  monument,  too.  I'm  going  over  there 
this  Sunday  with  my  f riend,  —  a  fine  woman,  Klaus!" 
Realizing  the  oddity  of  his  situation  and  of  his  flitting 
thoughts,  he  laughed.  "  I  had  expected  something  rather 
different,  Klaus,"  he  said,  "a  senator's  carriage,  with  a 
coachman."     He  laughed  to  himself. 

Klaus  Baas  shook  his  head  disapprovingly.  "  You're 
an  odd  fish,  Heini  Peters!  How  can  a  man  absolutely 
forget  himself  and  his  own  life  in  thinking  about  other 
people  —  and  especially  dead  ones,  as  you  do?  And  I 
wager  you've  paid  the  expenses  of  this  performance 
yourself.  You  won't  get  anywhere  by  that  sort  of  thing, 
Heini." 

Heini  Peters  blushed,  annoyed  at  the  suddenness  and 
tactlessness  of  the  attack,  rather  than  at  his  assailant. 
"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I've  been  pretty  fanciful  in  my  time, 
and  I've  often  been  deceived ;  but  still  I've  often  been  very 
happy,  Klaus,  and  I've  made  a  good  many  other  people 
happy,  too,  and  shown  them  some  great  and  good  things. 
And,"  he  went  on,  with  an  air  of  gentle  superiority, 
"there's  nothing  in  the  Bible,  Klaus,  that  says  we 
oughtn't  to  imagine  so  much,  but  it  does  say  that  we 
oughtn't  to  calculate  so  much.  '  Then  the  devil  took  him 
up  on  a  high  mountain  and  showed  him  all  the  treasures 
of  the  world.'" 

"  Come,  now,"  said  Klaus,  not  in  the  least  understand- 
ing what  he  was  driving  at,  "  you're  beside  yourself. 
Now  you'd  better  be  off." 

Heini  Peters  would  have  liked  to  put  it  more  plainly, 
but  he  was  too  weak  and  embarrassed.  With  a  gentle 
confused  little  laugh,  he  expressed  his  old  time  opinion  — 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  395 

"  You're  a  tiger,  Klaas  Hinrich  !  Now  start  on,  driver. 
Still  it  was  nice  to  have  you  here,  Klaus  !  " 

With  that  the  hearse  rolled  away. 

When  Klaus  Baas  got  home,  he  told  Sanna  what  he 
had  been  doing,  laughing  about  it  all,  shaking  his  head  at 
the  same  time.  She  was  surprised  that  he  seemed  to  be 
so  much  interested  in  a  thing  of  that  kind,  and  yet  in  a 
way  she  felt  the  touching  beauty  of  it  all  herself.  Half 
pleased  and  half  angry,  she  thought,  "  There  are  sides  to 
his  nature  that  I  don't  know  at  all.  Outside  of  them 
he  is  just  filled  up  with  work  —  work,  and  me  and  the 
children." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

Klaus  was  always  on  guard.  He  was  not  one  of  those 
for  whom  things  "  run  as  usual "  as  they  do  with  people 
whose  families  have  lived  in  the  same  conditions  to  the 
third  and  fourth  generation.  Everything  remained  new 
to  him.  Secretly  he  was  constantly  amazed  at  his  own 
surroundings,  at  his  rooms  at  the  office,  at  his  aristocratic 
brother-in-law,  who  continued  to  be  cool  to  him,  at  the 
Exchange  and  his  acquaintances  there  ;  and  beyond  these, 
at  the  little  house  overlooking  the  Elbe,  which  was  now 
his  own,  at  his  self-possessed,  fine-looking  wife,  and  his 
pretty  children,  in  their  dainty  light  clothes.  And  all 
these  things,  as  a  source  of  self-satisfaction  and  confidence, 
aroused  and  strengthened  in  him  a  new  pride.  "  How  far 
along  I  have  got  !  "  he  thought.  "And  I  will  get  farther 
still.  I  must  get  more  money  —  and  with  it  more  credit; 
and  with  that,  more  power  !  " 

Sanna  told  him  that  he  was  entirely  too  strenuous,  and 
didn't  save  enough  of  his  energy  for  her  and  the  children. 
"  You  would  still  like  to  be  Czar  of  Russia,"  she  said, 
"just  as  you  wanted  to  be  when  you  were  a  boy  playing 
among  the  trees  in  the  graveyard.  You  don't  have 
enough  time  left  for  us  and  for  other  people,  and  above 
all,  for  yourself." 

Her  words  disquieted  him,  for  he  felt  their  truth ;  but 
he  refused  to  feel  it  very  clearly,  and  was  soon  absorbed 
in  business  again.  He  was  one  of  those  men,  numerous 
enough  among  our  progressive  people  in  those  years,  and 
to-day  as  well,  who,  having  reached  a  high  position  by  their 
own  will  and  zeal,  set  the  looms  humming  and  the  ham- 
mers striking  all  over  the  country,  and  bring  labor  and 
money  into   it.     Ceaselessly,  all   the  time,  evenings  and 

396 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  397 

Sundays  too,  they  follow  their  irresistible  impulse  to  labor, 
to  conceive,  and  to  execute,  swiftly,  secretly,  and  cleverly, 
schemes  that  will  win  them  power  and  distinction. 

For  several  years  the  business  with  Shanghai  had 
quietly  and  steadily  developed.  Then,  one  summer,  their 
correspondence  grew  more  animated.  Far-sighted  people 
were  just  beginning  to  perceive  that  a  war  was  bound  to 
come  in  the  far  East.  The  point  at  issue  with  the  firm 
was  whether  they  should  go  shares  with  the  young  man 
from  Liibeck  in  supplying  rapidly  and  adequately  certain 
goods  which  they  had  already  been  sending  to  Shanghai, 
but  which,  in  case  of  war,  would  be  needed  in  great  haste 
and  in  great  quantities.  H.  C.  Eschen  was  to  do  this  on 
joint  account  with  the  Liibeck  man.  The  difficulty  and 
risk  consisted  in  knowing  whether  the  war  would  actually 
come  and  in  making  no  great  mistake  as  to  the  time  when 
it  would  break  out. 

Arthur  Eschen  saw  the  letters  and  approved  them,  but 
he  gave  neither  time  nor  thought  to  them.  He  was  giving 
himself  up  more  and  more  to  his  affected  interests  and  to 
his  restless  society  life.  His  desk  was  littered  more  than 
ever  with  his  club  and  art  correspondence.  And  he  was 
away  often.  When  Klaus  Baas  tried  to  get  his  attention, 
Eschen  looked  either  indifferent  or  ill  at  ease.  Klaus 
complained  about  it  again  to  Sanna.  "  I  don't  know  for 
the  life  of  me  what's  the  matter  with  your  brother,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  used  to  his  not  working  right,  and  it  doesn't 
surprise  me  any  more,  but  it  really  seems  to  me  that  he 
doesn't  get  off  his  bright  sayings  any  more,  and  that  dis- 
turbs me  considerably.  I  hope  he  isn't  up  to  any  foolish- 
ness." Sanna  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  said  nothing, 
for  that  point  was  a  fertile  source  of  quarrels.  She  se- 
cretly reproached  Klaus  with  lack  of  understanding  for 
people  like  her  brother,  and  injustice  to  them. 

But  when,  a  little  later,  he  brought  up  the  subject 
again,  she  said,  "  I've  been  meaning  to  speak  to  you  about 
that  for  several  days.  Arthur's  wife  was  here  two  weeks 
ago  and  again  yesterday,  and  was  talking  along  in  her 
usual  way  about  Paris  and  everything  they  were  doing 


398  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

and  getting.  And  I  remarked  incidentally  that  all  that 
cost  a  lot  of  money,  and  went  on  to  say  that  you  and  I 
were  both  saving  so  that  we  could  more  than  triple  what 
we  have  now  in  ten  years'  time.  I  said  that  we  managed 
to  do  that,  although  we  had  four  children,  while  she  never 
had  a  dollar  left,  although  she  had  no  children  at  all. 
She  got  restless,  and  showed  plainly  that  she  wanted  to 
pump  me.  She  said  that  the  firm  had  been  making  good 
profits,  even  though  there  had  been  a  sudden  falling  off 
during  the  last  month." 

"  What  ?  "  said  Klaus,  all  attention.  "  A  falling  off  ? 
a  falling  off  last  month  ?  That's  absolute  nonsense  —  a 
falling  off  ?  She  must  certainly  have  said  a  drop!  But 
a  drop  !  That  looks  precious  like  speculation,  Sanna  ! 
A  drop  ?  Tha-t's  it,  —  tin  has  gone  down  !  Of  course 
that's  it  —  it's  the  tin  !  Well  !  So,  Sanna,  your  dear 
brother  Arthur  has  probably  been  venturing  a  little  with- 
out my  knowing  it  !  Of  course  he  hasn't  endangered  any 
one  else  !  " 

She  turned  away  angrily.  "  It  isn't  right  for  you  to 
say  '  your  dear  brother  Arthur '  in  that  scornful  way,"  she 
cried. 

"  You're  right,"  he  said  gravely.  "  But  you  are  often 
too  quick  about  taking  his  side,  Sanna !  Well,  anyway, 
I'll  just  ask  him  !  I'll  confront  him  with  this  business. 
Aside  from  the  fact  that  it's  risky,  a  man  like  your  brother 
never  has  any  luck  in  things  like  that.  I,  for  one,  don't 
know  what  the  luck  depends  on  —  maybe  on  having  a 
kind  of  a  knack  at  it,  maybe  on  keeping  cool,  and  maybe 
on  providence.  All  I  know  is  that  he  doesn't  have  any 
luck.  And  I  don't  like  to  think  of  the  prospect,  Sanna — ■ 
think  of  Arthur  and  Lizzy  Eschen  poor  I  But  after  all, 
what  business  is  it  of  mine  !  But  I  do  say  that  my  as- 
sociate has  got  to  be  a  serious  business  man,  or  else  I'll 
hunt  up  another  partner." 

The  next  morning  he  told  Arthur  Eschen  straight  out 
what  he  suspected.  Biting  his  lips  in  vexation,  Eschen 
admitted  that  he  had  been  speculating  in  order  to  cover 
his  heavy  household  expenses,  and  told  Klaus  how  far  he 


KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS  399 

had  gone.  He  had  lost  about  forty  thousand  marks. 
They  had  a  short  and  rather  violent  altercation,  which 
ended  in  Arthur  Eschen's  leaving  the  office  pale  and 
angry,  declaring  that  after  all  the  things  his  brother-in- 
law  had  said  to  his  face,  he  didn't  think  he  could  ever 
work  with  him  again.  He  did  stay  away  for  several 
days ;  then  he  came  back,  and  for  a  while  applied  himself 
more  regularly. 

But  the  discovery  had  made  Klaus  lose  all  confidence 
in  him.  He  told  himself  that  Arthur  Eschen  had  adopted 
this  comfortable,  uncertain  way  of  living  once  and  for 
all,  that  he  would  always  be  clay  in  his  wife's  hands,  and 
that  there  was  no  use  trying  to  change  him.  The  con- 
stantly recurring  claims  he  and  his  wife  allowed  life  to 
make  on  them  would  always  prompt  him  to  try  speculat- 
ing again  in  order  to  make  up  the  deficit.  Besides,  with 
such  a  luxurious  partner,  the  firm's  capital  would  never 
increase  to  any  imposing  degree.  He  began  to  weigh  the 
idea  of  a  separation,  and  to  consider  how,  if  this  should 
come  to  pass,  he  could  get  a  good  partner  with  capital, 
or  how  he  himself  could  become  an  associate  in  another 
firm. 

In  the  midst  of  these  weighty  deliberations,  he  happened 
to  learn  one  day  at  the  Exchange  that  the  junior  partner 
of  a  very  important  Shanghai  firm  was  hopelessly  ill  —  so 
people  said  —  and  had  been  sent  to  the  Riviera.  In  a 
flash  Klaus  began  to  wonder  excitedly  whether  he  might 
in  any  possible  way  get  taken  into  the  firm.  He  certainly 
had  associations  in  Shanghai  which  they  had  not ;  and  for 
years  it  had  been  plain  to  him  that  the  senior  partner  of 
the  firm,  a  certain  Herr  Hasse,  was  very  well  disposed 
toward  him.  The  firm  would  certainly  not  be  able  to  get 
along  for  a  very  long  while  without  the  absent  member, 
and  would  have  to  be  looking  around  for  some  one  to  take 
his  place.  Their  capital  was  already  so  large  that  a  really 
good  man,  even  if  he  hadn't  much  capital,  would  satisfy 
them.  But  then,  when  he  considered  the  size  of  the  firm, 
he  didn't  see  much  hope  in  the  scheme,  after  all.  And  in 
his  usual  way  he  began  to  feel  resentful  at  Arthur  Eschen 


400  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

for  making  him  cast  about  thus  among  such  vague  ideas 
and  hopes  —  all  of  which  certainly  proceeded  from  his 
own  overreaching  will.  He  made  up  his  mind,  however, 
to  set  the  thing  in  motion  with  great  caution.  To  that 
end,  he  would  have  to  become  better  acquainted  with 
Herr  Hasse  personally  than  he  could  become  by  meeting 
him  occasionally  on  the  Exchange.  Herr  Hasse  was  dis- 
tantly related  to  his  sister-in-law,  so  Klaus  got  her  to  ask 
him  there  to  one  of  her  dinners.  He  counted  on  being 
able  to  find  out  casually,  on  this  occasion,  what  Herr 
Hasse  thought  of  war  in  the  East.  If  Herr  Hasse  came 
to  know  him  better  in  this  way,  and  if  the  war  arrange- 
ments Klaus  had  in  view  struck  him  favorably,  Klaus  could 
perhaps  venture  to  offer  himself. 

Sanna  was  glad  to  get  out  of  the  house  and  out  of 
Blankenese  again,  for  she  had  been  tied  there  all  summer. 
Making  Klaus  promise  to  leave  the  office  in  good  time, 
she  sent  him  off  to  town  and  set  about  inspecting  her  best 
clothes. 

As  Klaus  Baas  was  leaving  the  office  that  evening  at 
dark  —  for  it  was  September  —  it  occurred  to  him  that  if 
he  could  find  it,  he  ought  to  buy  a  present  for  his  oldest 
daughter,  who  would  have  her  twelfth  birthday  party  in 
a  few  days.  Up  to  this  time  Sanna  had  always  attended 
to  the  presents,  declaring  that  he  didn't  think  or  care 
about  that  sort  of  thing.  But  Sanna  had  a  way  of  calmly 
assuming  things  like  that ;  and  Klaus  made  up  his  mind  to 
show  what  he  could  do,  and,  by  getting  a  pretty  gift,  to  dis- 
play himself  to  his  wife  and  big  daughter  in  a  new  light. 
In  view  of  the  war  transactions,  he  certainly  could  permit 
himself  a  slight  extra  expenditure.  Proceeding  to  the 
Neuenwall,  he  walked  along  past  the  lighted  shops,  hunt- 
ing for  something  that  would  do.  He  found  his  errand 
diHicult.  Sanna  could  pay  out  a  hundred  marks  once  in 
a  while  for  something  pretty  rather  than  necessary  with- 
out having  her  conscience  trouble  her  in  the  least,  but 
Klaus  never  had  been  able  to  and  couldn't  learn  to.  He 
soon  grew  impatient.  Just  then,  looking  in  the  window 
of  a  new  art  shop  he  was  passing,  he  saw  in  a  pretty  paste- 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  401 

board  box  a  buckle  made  of  old  silver  —  the  sort  of  thing 
a  little  girl  like  his  would  like  to  wear  in  her  belt.  Klaus 
bent  to  look  at  it,  with  eyes  that  were  not  so  good  as  they 
had  been  thirteen  years  before  —  for  instance,  when  he 
had  taken  his  last  walk,  with  the  oak  staff,  through  the 
Holstein  woods.  On  the  two  plates  of  the  buckle  there 
was  a  pretty,  simple  engraving,  presenting  two  naked 
children  dancing  toward  each  other,  one  arm  and  one  foot 
touching  in  a  way  that  made  a  picture  of  light  and  grace- 
ful motion.  The  lid  of  the  box,  which  was  turned  back, 
bore,  in  pretty  gold  printing,  the  inscription,  "  After  a 
design  by  Doris  Kotermund." 

Straightening  up,  Klaus  went  into  the  shop  and  bought 
the  trinket.  Refusing  to  let  them  wrap  it  up,  he  started 
off  in  the  calm,  September  twilight  toward  Harvestehude. 
He  kept  his  hand  around  the  box  in  his  coat  pocket,  and 
his  thoughts  travelled  strangely  toward  his  home  country, 
and  toward  his  whole  past  life. 

He  stood  still  when  he  reached  the  parapet  of  the  Lom- 
bards-Briicke  as  if  to  look  out  over  the  Binnen-Alster  for 
a  while.  He  drew  the  box  out  furtivel}^  and  opened  it. 
The  two  naked  children  must  certainly  be  hers.  And  he 
thought  how  much  he  would  like  to  see  how  she  and  all 
the  old  country  were  getting  along.  He  gazed  medita- 
tively out  over  the  water,  that  rippled  with  a  bluish 
mother-of-pearl  lustre.  Far  out  over  it  lights  gleamed 
brightly.  Behind  on  the  Jungfernstieg,  in  front  of  the 
great  dark  gray  walls  of  the  houses,  myriad  lights  gleamed 
and  sparkled  —  stretching  out  in  long  rows,  now  standing 
still,  now  gliding.  And  over  the  houses  was  the  deep 
blue  of  the  sky.  Klaus  had  seen  it  all  so  many  times  — 
and  had  paid  so  little  attention  to  it.  Yet  it  was  singu- 
larly lovely.  It  was  a  pit)'  he  had  never  had  time  to  give 
his  attention  to  things  like  that  —  that  his  spirit  had  al- 
ways been  so  fixed  and  tense,  always  on  guard.  On  the 
last  Christmas  Eve,  after  he  had  closed  the  office,  at  about 
four,  he  had  stayed  there  for  a  while  alone  at  his  desk,  and 
a  kind  of  yeai-ning  had  come  over  him.  He  had  felt 
somehow  that  he  was  not  a  young  man  any  longer,  and 
2d 


402  KLAUS   HINRICH  BAAS 

he  had  wished  that  he  might  go  a  little  more  slowly.  But 
then  he  had  told  himself  that  he  could  not  —  that  he  must 
work  on  and  on  ;  he  had  no  resources  of  long  standing, 
as  most  of  the  others  had.  And  so  the  mood  had  left  him 
and  he  had  forgot  all  about  it.  Now  it  had  come  back. 
Well,  such  moods  were  perfectly  natural  as  one  grew  old, 
and  he  was  almost  forty-ftve.  At  that  age  a  man's  origi- 
nal driving,  hurrying  impulse  slackened  somewhat,  and 
he  began  to  feel  the  need  of  going  more  slowly.  A  man 
has  to  stop  and  look  around  him  sometimes. 

It  was  singularly  pleasant  to  stand  there  with  a  picture 
like  that  before  him,  just  as  if  he  were  a  painter  or  a 
poet  ;  to  let  the  beauty  of  things  play  peacefully  upon 
him  without  feeling  any  need  of  passing  judgment.  Yes, 
it  would  certainly  be  fine,  and  would  do  him  a  lot  of  good, 
to  walk  around  his  old  home  for  several  days,  all  alone. 
He  would  go  to  see  the  old  friends  and  old  places  of 
which,  absorbed  as  he  had  been  in  the  busy  present,  he 
had  not  thought  for  many  a  year.  And  with  them  he 
would  revive  old  times,  with  a  heart  full  of  fair  and 
peaceful  thoughts  —  oh,  so  fair  and  peaceful.  He  thought 
of  a  Bible  verse  he  had  learned  in  school  —  "Many  a  time 
have  they  afflicted  me  from  my  youth ;  but  they  have  not 
prevailed  against  me  "  —  and  with  unconscious  arrogance 
he  applied  it  to  himself.  It  would  certainly  be  fine  to 
walk  around  peacefully  and  reflect  on  all  the  troubled  yet 
beautiful  course  of  life.  It  would  certainly  do  his  soul 
an  infinite  amount  of  good.  "  I  should  like  to  see  the  old 
country  again,"  he  thought;  "and  Doris  Rotermund,  and 
all  the  rest.  It's  fourteen  years  now  since  I've  seen  all 
that  —  fourteen  years!  What  a  big  slice  out  of  life  that 
is!  What  a  long  road  it  has  been!  Oh,  it's  all  strange. 
Life  —  why,  life  will  soon  be  over  and  past!  I'd  like  to 
have  a  broader,  more  relaxed  life  from  now  on.  These 
last  fourteen  years  have  been  far  too  strenuous." 

Slipping  the  trinket  slowly  back  into  his  pocket,  he 
went  on  through  the  peaceful  evening.  His  soul,  usually 
so  stiff  and  tense,  expanded  blissfully,  took  unto  itself 
wings,  and  brooded  over  the  broad  silent  landscape  of  his 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  403 

life.  A  boy  coming  along  whistling  finally  roused  him. 
Surprised  at  his  reveries,  he  thought,  with  a  smile,  "  The 
little  trinket  is  responsible  for  all  this  —  and  the  beautiful 
peaceful  evening  —  and  the  broad  stretch  of  water — and 
the  years."  Here  and  there  over  the  rippling  dark  blue 
water  glided  the  brightly  lighted  ferry-boats.  Along  the 
shore,  far  and  near,  from  out  the  mysterious  blue  depths 
rose  golden  lights.  In  front  of  the  brightly  lighted  ferry- 
house  the  boats  lay  like  dark  masses.  The  music  stopped, 
and  a  gay  shouting  sounded  from  boat  to  boat.  From 
Raben  Strasse  two  girls  crossed  the  street  and  went  toward 
the  bridge,  probably  on  the  way  to  their  own  boat.  In  a 
few  years  his  own  two  oldest  children,  the  girl  and  the  boy, 
would  be  about  that  size.  Dear  thoughtful  children  they 
were,  too !  When  they  were  as  old  as  those  two,  they 
should  certainly  have  a  boat  of  their  own  too,  a  good  stout 
sailboat  on  the  Elbe.  But  perhaps  by  that  time  it  would 
be  better  to  move  in  to  town,  to  Harvesteliude,  where  it 
would  be  more  comfortable  for  him  and  Sanna,  and  where 
the  children  would  have  more  company.  And  some  day 
their  boat  would  fly  full  colors.  Everything  in  his  life 
would  grow  more  quiet,  more  benignant,  more  peaceful, 
less  rapid.  He  had  always  gone  too  fast.  Drawing  out 
the  box  and  opening  it,  he  studied  the  trinket  again  in 
the  reflection  from  the  lights  sparkling  over  the  water. 
He  thought  about  the  beautiful  quiet  country  from  which 
the  little  gift  had  come,  and  of  the  hand  that  had  fashioned 
it,  of  the  little  creature  that  would  wear  it,  of  her  beautiful 
kindly  mother  —  in  fact,  of  everything  that  made  up  his 
life.  And  his  reflection  brought  him  a  feeling  of  calm  and 
blissful  happiness  he  had  never  known  before. 

When  he  reached  his  brother-in-law's  house,  almost  all 
the  guests  had  assembled  already  on  the  terrace  and  in  the 
garden.  He  hunted  out  Sanna  at  once.  "  How  straight 
and  pretty  she  looks  standing  there,  the  mother  of  my 
children  I  "  he  thought  to  himself,  falling  in  love  with  her 
all  over  again.  He  took  his  stand  beside  her,  asking  about 
several  women  he  did  not  know,  and  passing  immediate 
judgment  on  them  in  his  usual  severe  way. 


404  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Then  Uncle  Eberhard  discovered  them,  and  came  up  to 
show  Sanna  a  new  acquisition.  And  Sanna,  who  was  to 
inherit  his  collection,  bent  her  yellow  head  down  to  the 
little  man  and  made  a  great  show  of  interest.  An  elderly- 
lady  from  Bremen,  a  distant  relative  of  the  Eschens,  who 
had  always  been  curious  about  the  man  whom  handsome, 
independent  Sanna  Eschen  had  surprised  her  family  by 
marrying,  came  up  and  began  to  talk  about  St.  Moritz. 
Klaus,  listening  with  his  head  politely  inclined,  was  really 
thinking,  "  What  do  I  care  about  St.  Moritz  ?  "  and  was 
considering  how  he  could  approach  Hasse,  and  make  a  good 
impression  on  him,  and  so  help  along  his  big  secret  scheme. 

At  the  foot  of  the  terrace,  in  the  reflected  light  from 
the  lamp,  stood  the  tall,  somewhat  loosely  built  figure  of 
the  host,  with  the  rest  of  the  guests,  business  men,  a  lawyer, 
and  a  clergyman.  The  clergyman  was  telling  some  droll 
stories  from  the  town  clubs.  And  there  was  some  talk  of 
the  last  regatta.  The  hostess  and  several  other  ladies 
were  grouped  around  a  tall,  good-looking  man  belonging 
to  a  family  of  Jewish  bankers.  He  had  drifted  away  from 
the  family  calling  into  the  study  of  the  history  of  the  fine 
arts,  and  the  ladies  were  questioning  him  about  a  new 
publication  on  Florence  in  the  time  of  the  Renaissance. 
Klaus,  having  no  interest  in  any  of  this,  stood  there  in 
bored  indifference,  waiting  for  Hasse. 

At  last  he  appeared.  He  was  a  large,  middle-aged  man, 
a  bachelor.  With  his  sturdy  figure,  he  could  have  been 
mistaken  for  a  country  gentleman.  Klaus  Baas  succeeded 
in  making  Sanna  understand  that  she  was  to  occupy  her- 
self with  the  lady,  who  by  this  time  had  progressed  from 
St.  Moritz  by  way  of  Geneva  to  Paris.  He  overheard  her 
saying  to  Sanna,  "  I  can  understand  now,  Sanna,  why  you 
were  willing  to  become  Frau  Baas  in  such  a  hurry.  You've 
got  a  nice,  good-looking  husband  —  yes,  really,  one  that's 
everything  he  ought  to  be,  Sanna."  Klaus  Baas  laughed 
in  his  sleeve.  "That's  right  —  so  she  has."  Then  he 
went  over  to  his  brother-in-law,  sure  that  Hasse,  who  had 
been  buttonholed  by  the  clergyman,  would  come  over  there 
to  say  good  evening. 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  405 

He  came,  and  greeted  Klaus  Baas  too.  Knowing  that 
Hasse  took  no  great  stock  in  subjects  that  had  no  connection 
with  business,  Klaus  produced  a  joke  that  was  just  going 
around  on  the  Exchange.  His  laugh,  which  was  as  con- 
tagious and  hearty  as  his  father's  had  been,  attracted  Hasse, 
who,  glad  to  find  somebody  of  his  own  sort,  said,  "  Let's 
go  off  there  in  the  corner  among  the  bronzes.  The  party 
around  your  brother-in-law  is  already  deep  in  sailing  and 
regattas ;  old  Uncle  Eberhard  is  buried  in  his  seals ;  and 
of  course  the  ladies  over  there  are  in  Italy.  I  haven't 
anything  against  women  when  you  can  get  them  one  at  a 
time  ;  in  fact,  they  can  be  very  charming.  But  I  can't 
get  along  at  all  with  a  lot  of  them  together."  Sitting 
down  in  easy  chairs,  protected  by  a  big  round  table,  they 
were  soon  deep  in  a  comfortable  contemplation  of  old  times. 
"  When  I  came  here  as  a  young  man  there  were  such  and 
such  export  firms  "  —  then  followed  a  comparison  with  the 
present.  From  there  Klaus  led  him  on  to  the  history  of 
the  Eschen  family.  He  recalled  Karl  Eschen  —  for  even 
the  dead  must  help  him  now  ;  then  they  proceeded  from 
the  forests  of  the  interior  of  India  to  Shanghai.  After  a 
while  Klaus  Baas  put  in  a  few  cautious,  yet  frank,  questions 
about  Herr  Hasse's  career.  As  Klaus  had  intended,  they 
brought  in  return  several  questions  from  Herr  Hasse  about 
this  and  that  in  Klaus's  life,  and  gave  him  a  chance  to  do 
a  little  well-concealed  boasting  about  how  he  had  risen 
from  a  humble  condition  to  what  he  was  now,  even  after 
counting  out  the  six  years  spent  in  the  country.  They 
argued  good-naturedly  about  the  future  of  China  and  the 
possibility  of  a  war  there.  And  finally  Klaus  expressed 
his  regret  at  the  illness  of  Herr  Hasse's  partner,  who  was 
not  getting  along  very  well  on  the  Riviera. 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  call  to  dinner.  Every- 
body went  into  the  grand  dining  room  and  sat  down.  The 
clergyman  told  about  a  vicar,  now  dead,  and  a  very  clever 
materialistic  merchant,  whose  relationship  was  remarkable 
because  they  had  such  satisfactory  talks  together,  the  dif- 
ference in  their  point  of  view  seeming  to  lend  to  their 
conversation  a  singular  spice.     The  lawyer  had  been  rum- 


406  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

maging  among  some  old  family  records,  and  had  come 
across  the  bill  of  lading  of  a  ship  that  had  run  the  conti- 
nental blockade  a  hundred  years  before.  He  mentioned 
the  prices  of  the  goods.  That  prompted  a  middle-aged 
merchant,  who  had  been  doing  his  duty  valiantly  by  the 
dinner,  to  talk  about  Hamburg  smoked  meats.  He  tried 
to  set  forth  the  history  of  that  famous  article,  but  it  re- 
mained fragmentary.  Then  a  young  merchant  retailed 
in  pigeon  English  the  conversation  he  had  had  with  a 
coolie  in  Hongkong  about  his  religion.  That  led  another 
guest  to  relate,  with  the  aid  of  Spanish,  something  about 
the  faith  of  the  original  inhabitants  of  Mexico.  And  then 
that  gave  the  dark  little  Renaissance  man  an  opportunity 
to  tell,  in  his  animated  way,  what  he  thought  the  soul  of 
a  Lorenzo  Medici  was  like.  Arthur  Eschen  talked  to  his 
wife  about  the  latest  automobile  accidents  with  an  interest 
that  made  Klaus  Baas  fear  he  would  fall  a  victim  to  that 
sport  next.  Suddenly  Sanna  Eschen's  laugh  rang  out 
gayly.  She  was  sitting  beside  the  lawyer,  with  whom  she 
had  gone  to  kindergarten.  She  declared  that  he  used  to 
stutter  in  those  days ;  he  called  it  a  bold,  saucy  fib,  but 
very  like  her.  To  prove  her  point,  she  imitated  the  way 
he  had  talked.  Hasse  let  his  hostess  talk  society  to  him, 
but  he  did  not  seem  to  listen  very  well,  for  every  now  and 
then  he  looked  absent-mindedly  over  at  Klaus  Baas,  as  if 
in  his  thoughts  he  was  still  talking  to  him.  Klaus  Baas 
let  the  lady  from  St.  Moritz  chatter  on  undisturbed.  She 
had  struck  the  British  Museum  by  this  time,  and  all  that 
Klaus  had  to  do  was  to  put  in  an  occasional  yes  or  no. 
When  now  and  then  he  recalled  his  thoughts  from  busi- 
ness, and  looking  up,  met  Sauna's  big  eyes  or  Hasse's  calm 
glance,  he  felt  that  these  two  liked  him.  And  that  was 
enough. 

After  supper  he  considered  whether  he  had  better  try 
to  bring  about  a  continuation  of  their  talk.  But  since 
Hasse  gave  him  no  opportunity,  he  and  Sanna  started  for 
home. 

In  the  train  and  on  the  road  in  Blankenese  he  spoke  in 
his  confident  way  about  the  talk  he  had  had  with  Hasse 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  407 

and  how  he  had  done  a  good  thing  for  himself.  And  he 
lost  himself  in  Sanna,  who  lured  him  on  with  her  beauty, 
and  who  plainly  was  very  much  in  love  with  him  that 
evening,  for  she  clung  to  him  and  held  his  hand  as  they 
walked.  When  they  reached  home,  he  did  not  take  up 
the  evening  paper,  but  asked  her  to  sit  with  him  just  as 
she  was  for  a  little  while  and  talk.  "Now  that  woman 
from  St.  Moritz,  Sanna,"  he  said  in  surprise;  "did  what 
she  was  telling  about  interest  you  ?  It  bored  me  awfully. 
What  do  I  care  about  St.  Moritz  and  Egypt  and  Rome, 
and  all  the  other  pleasure  trips  ?  Those  are  for  people 
whose  hands  have  grown  soft  because  their  grandparents 
have  spared  them  too  much.  I've  got  both  my  feet  planted 
right  here  in  Hamburg,  here  in  the  present — I  don't  care 
where,  down  on  the  Strandweg  or  at  the  Dammtor  or 
along  the  harbor  or  anywhere  you  happen  to  see  me." 

Sitting  beside  him  in  her  pretty  silk  gown,  she  looked  at 
him  with  her  big  shining  eyes.  She  liked  now  and  then 
to  hear  his  "  Heisterberg  talk,"  for  it  made  her  feel  that 
she  had  married  a  very  clever,  individual,  strong  man. 
And  that  she  simply  had  to  feel. 

"I  was  amazed  at  the  clergyman,"  Klaus  went  on. 
"  You  really  couldn't  tell  the  difference  between  him  and 
a  merchant  or  a  lawyer,  either  in  his  looks  or  his  talk. 
And  that  doesn't  seem  right  to  me.  Now  any  Hamburg 
citizen  of  good  family,  any  merchant  or  lawyer,  is  a  direct 
product  of  conditions,  self-seeking,  positive,  discreet,  and 
clever.  But  a  clergyman  ought  to  be  different.  He 
ought  to  be  a  simple  man  —  a  man  that  has  discovered 
the  truth,  not  by  picking  it  up  on  the  street  or  in  societ}^ 
but  in  delving  in  the  depths  of  the  world  and  of  men's 
spirits  and  of  his  own  soul.  And  you  ought  to  be  able 
to  see  that  by  seeing  him  and  hearing  him  talk.  Come 
sit  on  my  knee,  Sanna." 

She  listened  for  a  moment  for  sounds  from  the  nursery, 
then  sat  down  on  his  knee.  "  Well,  what  else  surprised 
you?"  she  asked. 

"  Everything  surprises  me  when  I  am  at  Harvestehude. 
Now  just  take  that  clever,  cultivated  Jew.     His  soul  is 


408  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

altogether  taken  up  with  the  beautiful  things  of  life  ;  it's 
like  a  stately  room  hung  with  pictures,  full  of  statues  and 
beautiful  art  objects,  handsome  rugs,  and  distinguished  old 
books  on  the  tables.  In  the  room  of  my  spirit,  Sanna, 
there  is  still  only  a  plain  wooden  table  with  six  chairs 
around  it,  occupied  by  mother  and  father  and  the  rest 
of  my  people  ;  and  among  them  is  our  dead  Lotte,  who 
would  probably  be  living  to-day  if  she  had  been  the  child 
of  wealthy  people.  Around  the  walls  of  this  plain  room 
hang  other  pictures  of  my  hard  youth.  There  hasn't  been 
either  time  or  space  for  fine  ornaments  —  and  so  the  room 
has  just  stayed  that  way,  and  is  so  now.  I  like  to  hear 
about  those  other  things,  but  I  can't  be  curious  enough 
about  them.  I  can't  really  take  them  seriously  enough  to 
enjoy  them  whole-heartedly." 

"  That's  true,"  she  said  with  a  sigh;  "you  are  a  peasant." 
He  stroked  her  soft  light  hair  more  firmly,  patting  it 
down  on  both  sides  of  her  cheeks  till  she  looked  quite 
girlish.  "  Even  so,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  think  I  am  in  any 
sense  less  cultivated  than  you,  or  less  distinguished,  or  less 
educated.  A  lot  of  people  think  that  a  man  from  a  work- 
man's family,  without  higher  education,  a  merchant,  and 
a  regular  tiger  for  energy,  can't  possibly  think  of  anything 
else  but  making  money.  Well,  it  isn't  true !  When  I 
was  a  boy  and  a  young  man,  I  was  a  dreamer,  given  to  all 
kinds  of  idealism.  I  read  the  best  things  that  wise  and 
noble  men  have  thought  about  God  and  the  world.  And 
I  thought  about  them,  too,  and  still  think  about  them, 
not,  to  be  sure,  in  the  way  of  ornament  or  sport  or  talk, 
as  so  many  do,  but  because  such  thought  seems  to  me 
bitterly  necessary.  I'm  not  in  the  least  lazy  or  indifferent 
about  the  greatest  things  in  life  ;  on  the  contrary,  like  any 
right-thinking,  serious  person,  I  concern  myself  with  them 
a  great  deal.  It's  true  that  I  have  deliberated  about  them 
slowly  and  weightily  and  cautiously.  I  haven't  gone  over 
in  a  hurry  to  Buddha  or  Nietzsche,  but  I  have  stuck  to 
the  God  of  Christianity,  however  true  it  is  that  I  know 
him  and  believe  in  him  and  fear  him  less  than  I  did  when 
I  used  to  say  my  prayers  in  school  with  my  hands  folded 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  409 

over  my  slate,  in  Heisterberg.  I  don't  feel  any  longer 
like  a  sheep  or  a  subject,  but  like  a  constitutional  citizen, 
who  has  all  kinds  of  rights,  natural  and  vested  too. 
There's  only  one  thing  —  " 

So  he  boasted  along. 

Secretly  more  and  more  drawn  to  him,  Sanna  stroked 
his  hair.  "There's  only  one  thing  ?  "  she  said.  "What 
were  you  going  to  say?  " 

He  looked  meditatively  past  her.  "I  really  think, 
though,"  he  said,  "  that  I'm  not  doing  quite  the  right 
thing.  I  think  I'll  have  to  allow  myself  more  time.  Now 
take  a  countryman  who  can  walk  slowly  and  comfortably 
over  the  fields  in  the  times  when  he  isn't  at  work,  while  I 
—  I'm  always  at  work.  And  to  think  I'm  forty-five,"  he 
said,  almost  solemnly. 

In  his  tone  there  was  something  quite  new  to  Sanna. 
"  Well,"  she  said,  with  a  low  laugh,  "  what  is  it  ?  You 
don't  mean  to  say  you  are  falling  off  your  high  horse  at 
last  ?     Who  can  have  come  after  you  with  the  tongs  ?  " 

With  a  good  deal  of  difQculty,  since  Sanna  was  leaning 
against  his  breast,  he  reached  into  his  coat  pocket  and 
brought  out  the  box.  "I  bought  this  to-day  for  Lieselotte's 
birthday  gift,"  he  said.     "See  —  this  is  what  did  it." 

Opening  the  box,  she  looked  at  the  buckle,  and  then  at 
the  name.  "  That's  the  one  that  was  once  '  so  good  '  to 
you,  as  you  call  it,  isn't  it  ? "  she  said,  rather  quietly, 
drawing  away  from  him  a  little. 

Pulling  her  back,  he  said,- "  I  saw  this  name,  and  the 
whole  experience  came  back  to  me.  And  the  walk  along 
the  Alster  was  lovely.  Altogether  I  got  to  thinking  all 
sorts  of  pleasant  things,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  ex- 
perience I  was  able  to  take  a  calm,  slow  survey  of  my 
whole  life.  Once  in  a  while  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
a  man  to  take  a  good  look  all  around  him.  I've  always 
worked  too  much,  too  hastily,  and  too  one-sidedly.  My 
life  has  lacked  calm  and  breadth  and  beauty  and  the  spirit 
of  play." 

"  The  things  those  other  people  have,"  Sanna  said  sig- 
nificantly. 


410  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  in  some  perplexity,  "  that's  true.  But 
still  it's  different.  The  things  they  have  I  never  can  get 
now,  and  I  don't  want  them.  I'm  too  plain  and  serious 
for  that,  and  my  youth  was  too  narrow  and  too  hard. 
But  now  and  then  I  must  have  time  to  go  on  a  long  peace- 
ful walk.  I  must  read  a  good  book  in  a  leisurely  way  once 
in  so  often.  I  must  take  a  restful  little  trip  with  you. 
And  above  all,  I  want  to  visit  my  old  home  country  for 
several  days.  And  I  want  to  go  absolutely  alone  to  see 
all  the  things  I  used  to  know  there.  I'm  going  to  start 
to-morrow  —  to  be  gone  three  days  —  otherwise  I'll  never 
get  to  it." 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  this  Doris  Rotermund  too  ? " 
she  asked  coldly. 

Taking  her  head  between  his  hands,  he  said,  "  Tell  me 
what  you  were  thinking  of  when  you  looked  across  the 
table  at  me  this  evening,  at  dessert  ?  " 

Embarrassed,  she  said,  "  You  know  perfectly  well, 
Klaus." 

Drawing  her  closer  to  him,  he  said,  "  Oh,  Sanna,  if 
only  the  Shanghai  affair  goes  right  —  " 

''  Good  gracious  !  "  she  said,  "  do  at  least  shut  up  about 
business  now.     It's  past  midnight." 


CHAPTER  XXV 

The  trip  back  home  was  postponed.  Work  went  on  as 
usual  in  October,  except  that  there  was  an  unusual  strain 
on  account  of  the  prospect  of  war.  In  December  Klaus 
went  to  Berlin  and  to  Saxony  and  contracted  with  several 
firms  to  have  blankets,  cloth,  and  canvas  furnished.  The 
contracts  were  essentially  binding  for  both  parties,  but 
their  validity  was  to  depend  on  a  despatch  that  Klaus 
might  or  might  not  send.  He  made  sure  of  credit  to  a 
corresponding  degree.  After  arranging  all  these  matters 
in  high  good  spirits,  fairly  glorying  in  the  joy  of  adven- 
ture, he  awaited  the  letter  from  his  friend  in  Shanghai. 

He  found  the  letter  when  he  reached  the  office  in  the 
morning,  a  few  days  later.  The  man  from  Liibeck  said 
that  according  to  news  sent  him  from  a  friend  in  Japan, 
war  was  sure  to  break  out  soon.  He  would  probably  send 
a  telegram  very  shortly,  asking  the  Hamburg  house  to 
close  the  contracts  they  had  arranged  so  that  the  goods 
could  be  delivered  in  eight  weeks. 

That  very  afternoon,  as  Klaus  was  getting  ready  to 
leave  the  office,  the  despatch  came,  and  with  it  the  infor- 
mation that  the  goods  could  be  sold  at  a  good  profit,  but 
that  everything  depended  on  getting  them  there  quickly. 
Going  at  once  to  the  agent  of  the  factories,  who  was  still 
in  his  office,  Klaus  signed  the  contracts.  Then  he  con- 
sidered whether  their  credit  with  the  bank  would  suffice. 

During  the  next  few  weeks,  he  was  not  only  very  tense, 
but  very  restless  and  irritable.  The  fact  that  he  had 
never  taken  a  real  vacation  or  rest  was  telling  on  his 
strong  nerves,  and  the  clearly  defined  need  of  rest  he  had 
felt,  and  then  ignored,  was  having  its  revenge.     He  car- 

411 


412  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

ried  the  change  for  an  extra  edition  in  his  overcoat  pocket, 
and,  as  superstitious  as  a  bad  speculator,  cherished  a 
fixed  idea  that  the  business  would  miscarry  if  the  change 
got  lost  in  any  way.  On  Christmas  Eve  he  was  only 
dimly  conscious  of  the  children's  fun  and  of  Sauna's  play- 
ing with  them.  He  was  altogether  preoccupied  with 
business ;  there  was  urgent  need  of  further  consignments 
and  other  arrangements  for  India  ;  and  working  power 
and  credit  had  both  been  stretched  to  the  utmost.  Pacing 
absorbedly  up  and  down  in  the  next  room,  he  said  to 
Sanna,  "  If  this  affair  goes  well,  I'll  never  work  so  hard 
again,  and  I'll  have  more  time  and  thought  left  for  you. 
You  shall  have  as  good  a  husband  and  father  as  you  could 
wish."  Sanna  simply  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  busied 
herself  with  the  children  again. 

When  he  got  home  one  evening  in  early  February,  Sanna 
said  that  her  sister-in-law  had  been  there,  and  had  been 
giving  her  various  bits  of  news  —  among  them,  the  fact 
that  her  husband  was  sleeping  so  badly  that  she  feared  for 
his  health.  Worried  as  Klaus  was,  he  only  half  listened 
to  what  Sanna  was  saying,  thinking  superficially,  "How 
can  the  man  get  sick  now,  or  even  be  conscious  of  his  body 
at  all,  when  I'm  all  keyed  up?"  "Well,"  he  said  indif- 
ferently to  Sanna,  "I  don't  mind  if  he  has  a  few  sleepless 
hours,  Sanna.  He  has  slept  away  a  good  many  hours  of 
his  lifetime." 

Again  Sanna  could  not  brook  his  attack  on  her  brother. 
This  subject  had  really  become  a  secret  source  of  rancor 
between  them.  "  You  have  a  very  different  temperament 
from  his,"  she  said  somewhat  frostily.  "  You  can  sleep 
in  spite  of  your  troubles." 

"  Because  I  have  a  good  conscience,"  he  retorted  largely. 

Then,  still  pacing  up  and  down,  he  went  on  pondering 
what  he  should  do  if  the  war  did  not  come,  or  if  it  did  not 
come  till  later.  Should  he  nevertheless  venture  to  send 
the  goods,  in  conjunction  with  his  friend  in  Shanghai? 

"It's  a  little  depressing  to  have  you  waiting  for  a  war 
all  the  time,"  said  Sanna  after  a  while.  "  There's  some- 
thing so  dreadful  about  a  war." 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  413 

He  looked  at  her  coldly,  plainly  thinking,  "  You  a  mer- 
chant's daughter,  and  talking  like  that!  " 

Sanna  began  again  about  her  brother.  "  Do  you  know, 
Lizzy  says  he  has  such  bad  dreams,"  she  said,  "l  think 
it  must  be  awfully  wearing." 

"  Let  him  dream,"  said  Klaus,  "  it  will  do  him  good. 
There's  the  canvas  and  the  cloth  being  loaded  for  us  in 
Lusatia  and  Berlin  right  now,  —  think  of  it.  Perhaps 
Arthur  is  paying  the  penalty  for  the  tin  he  squandered 
last  year." 

His  calm,  arrogant  tone  vexed  Sanna  again,  much  as  she 
loved  his  self-confidence.  "  You  always  forget  that  he 
was  brought  up  differently  from  you,"  she  said. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  he  answered.  "  You  were  brought  up 
as  he  was,  and  yet  you're  like  me  in  counting  up  the  cost 
of  things.  If  you  can  do  that,  wliy  can't  your  brother  ? 
I  can't  endure  people  who  go  through  life  in  an  atmosphere 
of  absolute  comfort  and  beauty,  especially  if  they  haven't 
the  means  for  it.  Don't  stand  up  for  your  brother,  Sanna 
Eschen." 

In  quarrelling  with  Sanna,  he  quite  forgot  that  the  old 
fear  had  struck  him  again  a  little  while  ago :  "  Can't 
sleep,  can't  he  ?  Has  bad  dreams  ?  It  can't  be  that  he's 
speculating  again.  It  isn't  possible,  now  when  our  credit 
is  stretched  to  the  utmost."  And  he  went  on  thinking 
what  he  should  do  if  the  war  didn't  come  within  the  next 
week. 

The  next  morning  as  he  was  passing  with  the  stream 
of  people  going  to  work  out  of  the  colonnade  from  the 
Dammtor  station,  he  heard  something  being  called  from 
the  corner  of  the  Neuenwall.  "The  war!  "  he  thought  in  a 
flash,  all  alive  with  excitement.  Just  then  he  saw  his 
brother-in-law  coming  along  from  the  Neue  Jungfernstieg 
and  crossing  the  street  a  few  yards  away.  Klaus  looked 
at  him  with  sparkling  eyes.  The  newsboys  with  the  ex- 
tras were  coming  up  from  the  Grosser  Bleichen  and  taking 
their  stand  among  the  throng.  In  a  trice  Klaus  heard  the 
contents  of  the  first  war  despatch.  Hurrying  ahead,  eager 
for  work  at  the  office,  he  said  gayly  to  his  brother-in- 


414  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

law,    "  This   comes   just  right.      We   can't   help   having 
luck." 

Arthur  Eschen  came  closer  to  him.  "  I'm  going  to  tell 
you  here,  right  away,"  he  said;  "you  must  find  two 
hundred  thousand  marks.     I  ^ —  " 

Klaus  stood  still  as  if  he  had  been  struck.  People  and 
houses  rose  and  fell  dizzily  in  front  of  him.  Fixing  his 
eyes  on  the  ground,  he  walked  on  slowly,  muttering  in 
furious  anger,  "  Get  out  —  go  away  —  or  I'll  hit  you  in  the 
face."     Arthur  Eschen  fell  back  and  walked  behind  him. 

At  the  office  Klaus  stood  at  the  window  trying  to  con- 
trol his  anger.  "  The  damned  fool  !  The  stupid,  shiftless 
simpleton  !  To  throw  away  his  good  inheritance  !  Well, 
what  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  Where  can  I  get  two  hun- 
dred thousand  marks  in  a  hurry  ?  He'll  have  to  find  help 
himself.  Think  of  selling  the  contracts  for  a  small  profit 
—  it's  outrageous  —  damnable."  He  beat  against  the  win- 
dow and  gritted  his  teeth  in  a  perfect  passion.  "  Well, 
then,  we've  got  to  find  a  buyer.     Who?  " 

Suddenly  a  bright  idea  struck  him.  "  Suppose  I  go  to 
Hasse  and  offer  myself  now!  Now,  when  I  have  to  do 
something!  Who  knows  what  the  necessity  was  sent  for  ? 
I'll  go  to  Hasse  at  once.  Perhaps  one  of  them  will  have 
to  go  to  China  and  they  will  need  me  so  much  the  more. 
I  must  be  calm.  I'll  have  to  tell  them  frankly  what  has 
happened — quite  frankly.  I'll  say  that  I  wanted  to  come 
to  them  after  I  had  put  this  through  successfully,  but 
that  I  have  to  come  now !  Yes,  that's  what  I'll  do.  I'll 
see  whether  I  can  make  this  blow  turn  out  well." 

He  telephoned  to  ask  Sanna  to  come  in,  took  the  con- 
tracts out  of  his  cabinet,  and  set  off  for  the  Glockengies- 
serwall. 

It  was  one  of  the  big  new  office  buildings,  with  broad 
marble  steps,  high  windows,  easily  running  elevators,  and 
handsome  dark  doors  with  names  on  them  in  shining  letters. 
A  clerk  who  knew  Klaus  by  sight  let  him  through  the 
gate,  asked  him  to  wait  a  minute,  and  offered  him  a  chair. 
Klaus  sat  there  for  a  while  among  the  busy  young 
employees.        Pens    were    flying;    telephones     ringing  ; 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  415 

people  were  getting  up  here  and  there  to  get  things;  and 
through  the  open  door  of  the  chief's  office  came  the  sound 
of  subdued  conversation.  Phiinly  the  outbreak  of  war 
had  set  everything  in  motion  here,  too. 

Finally  the  caller  came  out,  and  Hasse,  who  had 
accompanied  him  to  the  door,  greeted  Klaus  with  a  look 
of  slight  surprise,  ended  his  talk  with  the  other  man,  and 
asked  the  new  caller  to  come  in.  Klaus  Baas  told  him 
briefly  what  had  happened,  adding  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  fulfil  the  contracts  without  help  from  outside. 
He  asked  whether  Herr  Hasse  would  perhaps  be  disposed 
to  go  in  on  them  with  him.  Taking  them  out,  he  pushed 
them  toward  him. 

With  a  brief  remark  about  Arthur  Eschen,  Hasse  bent 
over  the  contracts.  As  soon  as  he  had  cast  his  eye  over 
them,  he  said,  "  We  saw  this  day  coming  too,  and  we  also 
have  been  somewhat  fortunate  in  our  guess  at  the  time." 
Klaus  Baas  nodded  politely  and  Hasse  read  on  in  silence. 
Finally,  dropping  the  papers,  he  said  that  in  general  he 
was  ready  to  take  over  the  contracts,  but  that  he  would 
ask  Klaus  Baas  to  allow  him  a  short  conference  with  his 
associate.     Might  he  tell  him  about  Arthur  Eschen  too  ? 

Klaus  Baas  nodded.  Then,  straightening  up  a  little, 
he  said  politely,  with  a  slow,  dignified  air:  "Herr  Hasse,  I 
should  like  to  make  you  a  proposition  now  which  you  will 
accept  or  not,  as  you  like.  For  a  year  I  have  been  think- 
ing of  withdrawing  from  the  Eschen  firm,  and  my  inten- 
tion has  been  strengthened  by  what  has  just  happened. 
Fourteen  years  ago  I  went  into  the  firm  with  forty 
thousand  marks.  I  have  now  two  hundred  thousand, 
without  counting  the  profit  I  may  expect  from  these 
contracts.  You  and  your  partner  know  my  business 
record  and  my  reputation.  I  assume  that  you  know  the 
value  of  my  connections  in  Shanghai,  and  I  surmise  also 
that  in  these  lively  times  you  can  hardly  do  without  a 
third  partner  for  very  long.  In  view  of  these  things, 
I  should  like  to  ask  you  whether  in  taking  over  these 
contracts  you  could  in  any  way  take  me,  with  my  small 
capital." 


416  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

Hasse  had  listened  with  his  eyes  fixed  attentively  on 
Klaus's  face.  He  simply  nodded,  and  said,  "  I  will  discuss 
that  with  my  partner,  too." 

Klaus  Baas  sat  and  waited.  He  felt  like  a  storm-driven 
bird  that  sees  familiar  landmarks  appear  and  then  vanish 
below  him.  Well,  away  with  such  thoughts.  His  anger 
against  Arthur  Eschen  bubbled  up  again.  Suppose  he 
should  meet  a  rebuff  here.  It  was  Arthur  Eschen  who 
had  put  him  in  this  position.  But  away  with  all  that. 
How  Sanna  would  look  when  he  met  her  in  the  office  and 
was  able  to  say,  "I'm  going  to  be  a  partner  with  Hasse." 
And  what  an  impression  I'll  make  on  this  one  —  and  that 
one  —  and  the  other.  But  better  not  think  of  it.  He 
watched  the  door  sharply. 

Soon  the  two  gentlemen  returned.  When  the  partner, 
Herr  Thielen,  a  younger  man  than  Hasse,  had  greeted 
Klaus,  Hasse  said  at  once  that  they  accepted  his  proposi- 
tion essentially.  But  they  did  not  want  to  offend  their 
junior  partner,  who  was  hopelessly  ill,  but  who  was  a 
devoted  business  man  and  an  exceptional  worker,  by  filling 
his  place  entirely  just  yet.  So  they  would  propose  an 
arrangement  for  the  time  being  with  the  understanding 
that  at  the  expiration  of  a  certain  time  Klaus  would 
become  a  partner.  They  hoped  that  in  about  two  weeks 
he  would  have  settled  up  his  affairs  with  Arthur  Eschen, 
in  which  they  would  be  glad  to  interpose  if  they  could 
lielp  him  —  and  that  he  would  then  come  to  them.  By 
that  time  Herr  Thielen  would  be  leaving  for  China  to  be 
on  the  ground.  After  agreeing  to  come  back  in  an  hour 
or  so,  Klaus  left  the  office. 

When  the  door  had  closed  behind  him,  a  tremendous 
feeling  of  joyous  pride  welled  up  in  him,  in  reaction  from 
all  the  anger  and  worry  he  had  felt.  What  would  Sanna 
say,  —  Sanna  and  the  children  ?  What  would  the  children 
think  of  this  day,  sometime  when  they  were  grown  up  ! 
And  how  he  could  vaunt  it  all  to  his  old  mother  !  And 
to  Sauna's  mother !  Now  at  last  he  was  reaching  a  place 
in  the  world  that  would  bear  inspection.  Had  he  really 
been  born  under  a  thatched  roof  in  Heisterberg,  and  gone 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  417 

to  a  village  school  ?  Overwhelmed  with  exuberant  joy, 
he  took  great  deep  breaths,  and  his  eyes  glowed. 

When  he  reached  the  office  again,  witii  this  mood  still 
upon  him,  Arthur  Eschen  was  sitting  at  his  desk.  Sanna 
was  standing  there  too,  her  face  pale  and  her  big  eyes 
looking  at  Klaus  warningly,  as  if  to  say,  "Now  don't  you 
be  so  severe  with  m}^  brother  !  "  In  his  overreaching  pride, 
his  scorn  and  anger  flared  up  again.  Sanna  at  that  man's 
side  !  With  a  haughty  air,  and  a  look  that  had  suddenly 
become  steely,  he  said,  "  I  have  offered  the  contracts  to 
Hasse.  Of  course  we  have  no  funds.  You  approve  of 
that,  I  suppose  ?  " 

Arthur  Eschen  nodded. 

Going  to  his  desk,  Klaus  went  on,  in  the  same  cold, 
heartless  tone :  "  Sanna,  I  am  going  to  leave  the  Eschen 
firm.  I  don't  want  to  be  in  the  same  room  with  your 
brother  any  longer." 

Arthur  Eschen  started.  Sanna  flared  up  at  once.  "  My 
brother  has  done  nothing  dishonest  !  It  was  his  own 
money.  You  have  no  right  to  rail  at  him  when  he  has 
had  bad  luck." 

"  No,"  Klaus  said,  "  he  hasn't  done  anything  dishonest  — 
if  it  wfisn't  dishonest  to  work  very  little  and  very  desul- 
torily for  fourteen  years  and  then  take  and  waste  the  earn- 
ings my  work  created.  What  he  has  done  has  just  been 
stupid  —  so  stupid  that  I'd  like  to  take  that  picture  of  his 
honorable  grandfather  hanging  over  his  desk  there  and 
smash  it  over  his  head  and  make  him  wear  it  as  a  ruff 
along  the  Jungfernstieg." 

Arthur  Eschen  stood  up,  pale  as  death.  He  contained 
himself,  however,  and  said  despairingly :  "  I  will  go.  I 
may  be  easy-going  and  weak,  but  I  am  not  dishonorable." 

Sanna,  quite  beside  herself  now,  cried,  with  a  passionate, 
angry  look  at  Klaus  :  "  Oh,  you  !  I  saw  when  you  came  in 
that  you  were  out  of  your  senses  with  arrogance.  You  — 
you're  the  one  that  always  knows  everything,  and  has  every- 
thing, and  is  everything !  You've  just  got  something 
now.  I  know  what  that  look  means.  Don't  you  scorn 
my  poor  brother,  you  !  Just  wait  till  you  see  how  your 
2e 


418  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

own  children  turn  out.  Oh,  you  —  you  —  I  simply  can't 
love  you  any  more." 

Klaus  had  grown  paler  and  paler.  In  that  moment  he 
felt  that  everything  was  over  between  them.  He  went  too 
far.  "  Then  go  with  your  brother,"  he  said  with  cold  in- 
difference.    "Let  him  support  you." 

Then  he  left  the  office  and  went  slowly  down  the  stairs 
again.  He  felt  convinced  that  this  sudden  terrible  quarrel 
had  ended  everything  between  him  and  Sanna.  And  it 
had  all  come  so  suddenly.  He  stood  there  for  a  moment 
to  collect  his  thoughts.  Then,  hearing  a  door  open  behind 
him,  he  walked  on.  After  so  much  thought  as  this,  he 
had  arrived  at  a  secret  feeling  that  it  must  come  right 
again.  But  refusing  to  admit  it  to  himself,  he  hugged  the 
notion.  "It's  all  over  between  us  !  What  was  it  she  said 
—  she  couldn't  love  me  any  more  !  If  she  said  that,  what 
if  she  did  run  after  me  ?  No,  I  won't.  That  is  certainly 
no  wife  of  mine.  She  must  always  have  been  secretly 
against  me  —  and  on  the  side  of  her  own  family.  She  has 
never  really  loved  me." 

He  left  the  building  and  walked  toward  the  Jungfern- 
stieg,  breathing  in  great  draughts  of  the  fresh  cold  west 
wind.  "How  sudden  it  all  has  been!"  he  thought,  as 
he  became  more  composed.  "  Am  I  mad,  or  are  they  ? 
I  was  so  happj'"  about  the  way  the  Hasse  arrangement 
turned  out.  Why  did  I  have  to  get  angry  about  her 
brother?  But  she  was  unjust  —  absolutely  unjust !  What 
was  it  she  said — that  I  was  out  of  my  senses  with  arro- 
gance? She  shall  be  sorry  for  that.  I  —  I  won't  let 
her  rail  at  me!  I  won't  see  her  for  a  long  time!  I've 
let  her  have  far  too  many  liberties  ;  now  she  must  come 
down  a  little." 

Pulling  himself  together,  he  went  back,  according  to 
the  agreement,  to  the  Glockengiesserwall  to  Hasse's.  In 
a  discussion  of  several  hours,  they  readily  came  to  an 
agreement  about  the  contracts,  about  Klaus's  present  and 
future  position  in  the  firm,  and  about  taking  over  the 
young  man  from  Liibeck.  But  in  the  midst  of  all  this 
business,  a  dull  confused  thought  fluttered  through  Klaus's 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  419 

consciousness — "I'm  not  at  peace  with  Sanna.  And  now 
what  good  will  this  good  fortune  do  me  ?  " 

Finally  everything  was  arranged  for  the  present,  and 
Klaus  got  up  to  go.  Hasse,  noticing  that  he  was  agitated, 
remarked  that  he  must  have  had  a  hard  day. 

"  I  had  a  pretty  serious  talk  with  my  brother-in-law,  as 
you  may  imagine,"  Klaus  answered  gloomily,  "and  my 
wife  was  there  too.  This  is  very  hard  for  her."  Then, 
more  cheerfully,  happy  in  suddenly  seeing  a  way  out  of 
his  trouble  with  Sanna,  he  added,  "  I'm  sorry  to  have  to 
bring  this  up  just  now,  but  to-morrow  I  must  take  a  trip 
to  my  old  home  on  some  private  business  which  I  can't 
put  off.  I'll  report  here  again  on  Thursday.  I'll  be  glad 
if  you  will  please  send  any  necessary  communications  to 
me  in  care  of  the  Bahnhof  Hotel  in  Neumiinster."  With 
that  he  left. 

When  he  got  back  to  the  ofBce  it  was  empty.  He  worked 
there  for  a  while  with  the  procurist,  to  whom  he  handed 
over  certain  pieces  of  work  relating  to  his  withdrawal 
from  the  firm.  When  the  procurist  had  left  the  office, 
Klaus  walked  up  and  down  sullenly  for  about  an  hour, 
thinking  of  Sanna  and  her  brother,  and  stubbornly  brood- 
ing over  it  all  in  bitter  scorn.  After  all,  wasn't  he  of  a 
great  deal  more  importance  than  all  the  Eschens  put  to- 
gether ?  Sanna  had  never  really  respected  him,  and  now 
she  had  refused  to  love  and  honor  him.  It  was  a  good 
thing  for  her  to  have  to  come  down  a  little.  And  in  spite 
of  the  pressure  of  work,  it  was  right  for  him  to  make  a 
several  days'  visit  back  home,  for  now  he  had  nothing  in 
the  world  but  the  old  home  country  and  his  old  acquaint- 
ances there. 

Sitting  down,  he  wrote  a  short,  cold  note  to  Sanna, 
saying  that  he  had  to  go  back  home,  and  would  be  at  the 
office  again  on  Thursday. 

Then  he  took  his  bag  and  caught  the  night  train  north. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

The  next  afternoon  he  was  riding  in  his  brother's  wagon, 
Peter  sitting  beside  him  hokling  the  reins,  along  the  quiet 
turnpike  toward  his  native  village.  The  solitary  ride  on 
the  train  the  evening  before  and  the  sleepless  hours  he  had 
passed  had  quieted  and  softened  him.  The  plump,  long- 
legged  horse  swung  from  side  to  side  in  a  slow  heavy  trot : 
the  old  wagon  jerked  along  behind  it,  rattling  and  creaking 
through  the  wet  snow.  A  damp  cold  west  wind  blew  in 
upon  them  from  behind. 

Brother  Peter  was  telling  how  his  mother,  who  was  al- 
most eighty,  had  visited  them  three  years  before.  "  I  tell 
you  she  certainly  did  go  through  the  house,"  he  said, 
"with  me  and  Trina  and  the  children  after  her  —  and 
just  took  in  everything.  And  when  she  went  down  to  the 
dike,  with  all  the  rest  of  us  following  her  ;  and  when  she 
saw  the  geese  running  around  on  the  bar,  she  said  she  hoped 
the  water  wasn't  going  to  dry  up.  And  finally,  when  I 
was  driving  her  back  to  town  again,  she  just  said,  'You 
ought  to  have  got  farther  along  in  all  these  years.'  And 
then  she  just  looked  my  old  nag  up  and  down,  kind  of 
scornfully.  I  think  we've  taken  care  of  ourselves  pretty 
well.  When  we  began  we  didn't  have  a  thousand  marks, 
and  now,  taking  in  thfe  sheep  and  geese  and  all,  we've  got 
about  six  thousand.  No,  brother,  that's  all  right  ;  she's 
been  a  good  mother,  and  111  certainly  go  to  Hamburg, 
when  the  time  comes,  and  pay  her  my  last  respects.  But 
I  often  say  to  Trina,  '  I  don't  see  how  I  ever  happened  to 
belong  to  a  mother  like  that  ! '  " 

Klaus  said  that  he  and  she  got  along  finely  now. 

"  Oh,  well,  you  !  "  said  Peter  Baas.     "  That's  a  different 
thing  altogether.     You've  learned  a  lot,  and  got  pretty 

420 


KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS  421 

well  up  in  the  world.  Karl  Gaul  was  in  Hamburg  lately 
to  see  about  a  little  legacy,  and  he  heard  that  you  would 
soon  be  the  richest  man  in  Hamburg.  I  said  that  I  didn't 
know  whether  it  was  true  or  not,  and  that  it  wasn't  any 
business  of  mine  anyway.  I  said  that  you  had  never  held 
out  your  purse  for  me  to  dip  into,  though  I've  been  in  a 
tight  place  often  enough,  goodness  knows.  And  I'd  have 
been  very  glad  to  pay  interest  on  it,  and  to  pay  it  back  in 
a  few  years.  But  I  don't  need  to  any  more,  I  told  him, 
for  I'm  over  the  uphill  pull  now  ! " 

Near  the  village  Klaus  Baas  got  out,  and  his  brother 
started  back  toward  the  thatched  cottage  by  the  dike. 
Standing  in  the  wet  snow,  Klaus  looked  after  him.  Peter's 
last  remarks  to  Klaus  had  evidently  put  him  in  a  good  hu- 
mor with  himself,  for  he  seemed  to  be  looking  out  comfort- 
ably over  the  fields  as  he  drove,  and  to  be  cracking  his 
whip  with  an  air  of  great  satisfaction.  He  was  plainly 
pleased  to  have  been  able  at  last  to  make  Klaus  under- 
stand that  he  had  expected  help  from  him.  "  Well,  just 
see,"  said  Klaus  to  himself  ;  "  Peter  was  very  cool  and 
queer  to  me  too.  Well!  Of  course  he  did  hand  over  all 
he  had  that  time  —  out  of  the  mattress.  Well,  but  still, 
he  was  young  then  —  and  he  wasn't  a  business  man." 
Biting  his  lips,  he  looked  after  the  wagon  for  some  time. 
Finally  he  turned  and  walked  silently  into  the  village. 

He  scanned  everything  —  every  house,  every  tree,  every 
person,  to  see  whether  he  could  recognize  anything  or  any 
one,  or  tell  what  family  he  belonged  to.  There  on  the 
sandy  road  stood  his  old  home,  almost  unchanged.  There, 
inside  that  small,  low  window,  he  had  slept,  in  clear,  warm 
summer  nights,  as  well  as  when  the  winter  storms  beat 
heavily  against  it.  Other  children  were  sleeping  there 
now.  Indeed,  right  now  a  little  thing  was  standing  at  the 
gate  he  used  to  stand  at,  trying  to  catch  his  puppy  and 
throw  it  over  in  the  snow.  The  child's  little  face  was 
quite  strange  to  him.  Klaus  gravely  surveyed  the  whole 
place ;  then  he  turned  and  walked  away.  He  found  the 
church  unaltered ;  and  around  it  the  bare  dark  poplars 
still  stood,  their  branches  still  blown  to  the  east  by  the 


422  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

west  wind.  And  underneath  them  was  the  uneven  grave- 
yard, with  its  thin  covering  of  gray  snow  broken  here  and 
there.  And  there  was  the  low  red  wall  with  its  thick 
round  stones.  But  where  were  those  that  had  played 
there  ?  His  brother  had  told  him  that  a  few  were  still  at 
home ;  some  were  abroad ;  a  few  had  died  already,  as  if 
eager  to  be  the  first  to  get  into  those  green  graves.  Every- 
thing was  changed.  He  had  expected  his  trip  home  to  be 
different,  but  it  all  seemed  to  be  lost  to  him.  There  was 
nothing  for  him  here.  Everthing  seemed  to  him  to  be 
sulkily  refusing  to  speak,  or  else  dumb,  and  unable  to.  He 
certainly  had  nothing  in  the  world  now  but  the  little  nest 
in  Blankenese  —  that  dear  little  home  of  his,  and  that  dear 
wife.  Proud  and  obstinate,  was  she  ?  Well,  so  was  he. 
Just  as  much  as  she,  every  bit.  And  more !  He  had 
worked  hard  and  been  very  successful,  and  that  makes  a 
man  so  —  well,  rather  big  and  boastful  inside.  She  was 
quite  right ;  she  had  wise  eyes,  and  saw  things  as  they 
were.  He  would  have  to  be  more  kindly,  have  more 
understanding  of  other  people's  characters  and  natures. 
Well,  he  would ;  and  now  things  would  go  along  more 
peacefully,  more  benignantly,  and  more  slowly.  He  would 
go  more  than  halfway  and  make  up  with  Sanna.  And 
he  had  been  so  beautifully  successful  in  that  matter  with 
Hasse. 

He  took  one  more  long  look  at  the  silent  field,  at  the 
church,  at  Pastor  Jensen's  sunken  vault,  and  at  the  low 
wall  in  the  growing  darkness.  Then  he  walked  sadly 
away  from  the  village  to  the  turnpike  which  led  to  a  little 
station. 

An  hour  later,  peering  out  of  the  window,  when  it  had 
grown  quite  dark,  he  saw  the  familiar  clumsy  tower  and 
the  lane  bordered  by  bare  chestnut  trees,  now  grown  huge. 
When  he  got  off  the  train  he  went  down  to  the  square,  si- 
lently scanning  this  and  that  house,  and  peering  down  the 
narrow  streets.  "  How  narrow  everything  was  here,"  he 
thought,  "  and  how  unhappy  I  was  !  "  There  was  the 
market-place  ;  there  was  the  quiet  street  leading  down  to 
the  marsh.     And  there,  on  a  side  road,  was  the  little  red 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  423 

house  in  the  garden,  in  which  he  had  come  to  manhood  in 
experiencing  family  cares  and  anxieties,  in  doing  respon- 
sible work,  and  in  reading  good  books.  There  Martje 
Ruhland  was  still  living  with  her  child.  Her  parents 
were  dead  now,  and  the  business  had  passed  into  other 
hands,  though  the  brother  from  Kiel  was  associated  with 
it  still  in  the  capacity  of  procurist,  with  a  small  share. 
Martje  was  keeping  house  for  him. 

Klaus  Baas  stood  there  a  moment,  hesitating  whether  to 
go  in  or  not.  But  for  a  long  time  it  had  been  on  his  mind 
to  go  to  them  straightforwardly  sometime,  to  have  a  little 
friendly  talk,  and  to  show  them  that  he  had  prospered,  but 
at  the  cost  of  much  labor  and  difficulty. 

Martje's  brother  came  toward  him  from  the  lighted 
living-room  and  gave  him  his  hand  with  perfect  self- 
possession.  Martje  Ruhland,  pretty  and  girlish  looking, 
and  gentle  as  ever,  rose  from  her  chair  and  asked  him,  in 
a  quiet,  kind  way,  to  take  a  seat.  Before  he  had  a  chance 
to  sit  down,  her  child  came  in,  and  without  speaking  or 
expressing  any  feeling  at  all,  greeted  him  with  a  stiff,  po- 
lite little  handshake.  She  was  an  eighteen-year-old  like- 
ness of  her  mother,  though  a  little  taller,  and  she  had  on 
a  big  spotless  kitchen  apron.  Along  with  the  tea  things 
on  the  big  round  table  by  which  he  was  sitting  lay  all 
kinds  of  pieces  of  cigar-boxes,  several  fret  saws,  and  some 
blue  tracing  paper.  '  While  the  mother  was  pouring  tea, 
the  girl,  sitting  across  from  Klaus,  resumed  her  sawing. 
They  evidently  took  pride  in  the  fact  that  they  could  do 
something  besides  the  lace  making  that  had  annoyed  Klaus 
so  much  in  the  old  days.  They  talked  about  meals,  and 
tea,  and  going  to  bed,  and  tried,  simple-heartedly  enough, 
to  show  him  in  every  possible  way  how  happy  they  had 
been  in  this  kind  of  thing  since  he  had  left  them  the  field 
in  peace.  The  brother  had  sat  down  at  the  place  marked 
by  a  big  stein  of  beer  which  the  girl  had  put  there. 

Klaus  Baas  was  secretly  much  disconcerted  by  the  turn 
affairs  had  taken.  Not  at  all  with  the  confidential,  con- 
descending air  he  had  pictured  to  himself,  but  rather  in  a 
particularly  polite  and  hesitating  way,  he  asked  questions 


424  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

about  the  death  of  the  father  and  mother,  about  the  illness 
of  the  older  sister,  about  how  business  was  Sfoinsr,  how 
they  had  been,  and  so  on.  Then  he  had  to  tell  them  about 
Heini  Peters,  and  a  little  about  his  own  business.  All 
this  time  the  gentle-looking  girl  was  calmly  rasping  away 
regardless,  with  sandpaper  and  saw.  She  was  evidently 
trying  to  make  him  look  at  the  finished  and  unfinished 
results  of  her  efforts  —  all  of  them  silly,  meaningless  crea- 
tions. Klaus,  soon  feeling  himself  to  be  a  superfluous,  in- 
deed a  disturbing  element  in  this  completely  rounded 
circle,  hunted  for  an  opportunity  to  get  away.  After  a 
while  a  caller  came  —  a  somewhat  narrow-chested  young 
fellow,  who  was  introduced  to  him  as  a  clerk  at  the  wood- 
yard  and  the  daughter's  fiance.  The  young  man,  who 
evidently  knew  who  the  stranger  was,  fell  in  with  the 
family  idea  of  treating  him  well,  and  also  adopted  a  sort 
of  "no  questions  asked"  air,  not  heartily  at  all,  but  con- 
descendingly, as  if  he  regarded  Klaus  as  a  father  that  had 
deserted  his  obligations.  Then,  sitting  down  beside  his 
sweetheart,  he  began  to  saw  and  rasp  with  her  in  the  midst 
of  a  great  whispering.  After  their  guest  had  listened  to 
their  views  on  the  general  business  situation,  he  said  he 
thought  he  must  go.  They  all  shook  hands  with  him  with 
a  measured  politeness.  Martje  Ruhland,  to  be  sure,  told 
him  well  meaningly  to  remember  her  to  those  at  home. 
As  she  and  her  brother  were  accompanying  him  to  the 
door,  she  said,  in  her  thin,  toneless  voice,  "  We  sit  here 
this  way  every  evening  now,"  as  if  she  would  have  liked 
to  add,  "If  you  had  just  been  different,  we  could  have 
been  happy."  Klaus  nodded,  and,  saying  that  he  was  Yery 
glad  he  had  found  her  so  well,  left. 

Outside  in  the  wet  snow,  in  the  bare  chestnut  lane,  he 
turned  to  look  again  at  the  lighted  window,  and  shook  his 
head.  So  that  was  Martje  Ruhland.  The  complacent 
little  Philistine  !  He  had  meant  to  bring  comfort  and 
cheer  to  her.  And,  good  heavens,  she  was  a  great  deal 
more  complacent  than  he  was!  There  she  was,  sitting 
comfortably  behind  that  window  with  the  child  that  was 
just  like  her.      He  certainly  could  have  spared  himself 


ICLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  425 

that  visit.  "  I  don't  suit  her,  and  she  doesn't  suit  me," 
he  thought.  "  The  one  that  suits  me  is  the  woman  in 
Blankenese,  —  the  woman  I  senselessly  offended.  Wasn't 
it  all  right  for  her  to  intercede  for  her  only  brother  ?  Why 
did  I  snap  at  her  that  way  ?  I  deserved  to  be  told  what 
kind  of  a  man  I  am  !  I'd  certainly  rather  go  home  again 
to-morrow  evening  !  I  can't  quarrel  with  my  own  people 
—  with  the  only  person  I've  got  in  the  world.  But  it 
won't  hurt  her  to  wait  and  be  sorry  for  two  days." 

He  stayed  overnight  in  a  new  little  hotel  where  no  one 
knew  him.  The  next  morning  he  took  a  slow  train  east 
and  finally  reached  the  rolling  country,  and  after  that  the 
fertile  stretch  covered  with  trees.  Shortly  after  noon  he 
reached  the  pretty  lakes  deep  in  the  tall  birch  woods. 
There,  on  the  shore  of  a  blue  lake,  which  in  summer  fills 
the  air  with  its  sunny  reflection,  but  which  now  lay  gray 
and  dark  in  ice,  stood  the  church  village  in  which  Doris 
Rotermund  lived. 

Years  ago  Klaus  had  heard  that  her  husband  had  given 
up  his  mercantile  business  and  with  her  earnings  and  his 
had  built  a  house  here.  The  story  went  that  it  was  a 
rather  convivial  place,  but  not  at  all  out  of  the  way.  In 
the  press  of  his  own  anxieties,  Klaus  had  not  concerned 
himself  further  about  her.  He  wondered  how  she  had 
changed,  and  how  she  would  receive  him.  He  studied  the 
dark  cottages  in  perplexity,  looking  for  the  house  that  was 
most  likely  to  be  hers.  Well,  anyway,  he  wanted  to 
find  out  how  she  had  been  getting  along,  and  to  show 
her  how  he  had  been  doing. 

As  he  was  walking  along  past  a  garden  into  the  village, 
he  saw  a  pretty  little  girl  of  about  twelve  kneeling  on  the 
wet  ice  by  the  lake.  As  she  knelt  there  unbuckling  the 
skates  from  her  stout  shoes,  her  light  brown  hair  fell  for- 
ward over  her  shoulders.  The  way  she  held  herself, 
and  her  well  shaped  head,  made  Klaus  recognize  her  at 
once.  "  Hello,  there,"  he  said,  "  where  does  your  father 
live  ?  " 

She  looked  up  indifferently,  calmly  pushing  her  hair 
behind  her  ears  with  her  free  hand.     "  Over  there  in  the 


426  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

village,"  she  said,  nodding  her  head  across  the  road.    Then 
she  set  to  work  again. 

"  Just  as  matter  of  fact  as  her  mother,"  Klaus  thought. 
"Are  your  mother  and  father  well  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Very  well,"  she  answered,  without  looking  up  from 
what  she  was  doing. 

"  I  want  to  come  to  see  you,"  he  said.  "  Will  you  take 
me  there,  —  for  I  suppose  you  are  not  going  to  skate  any 
more  ?" 

She  got  up  and  walked  along  by  him,  buckling  and 
arranging  her  skates  as  she  walked. 

They  came  to  an  old  long,  low  house,  with  a  tiled  roof, 
surrounded  by  an  orchard.  The  pretty  little  thing  beside 
Klaus  set  up  a  kind  of  gay  Indian  war-whoop,  probably  to 
let  her  little  brothers  and  sisters  know  she  was  coming. 

"  Well,"  said  Klaus,  "  where  is  the  family  ?  "  She  lis- 
tened for  sounds  in  the  wide  low  house,  and  then  said,  in 
her  mother's  calm  way,  "  They're  in  the  parlor ;  mother's 
playing  with  them." 

From  the  other  end  of  the  hall  he  heard  the  cries  of  chil- 
dren, and  as  the  door  opened  he  saw  a  pretty  sight.  The 
warm  room,  scantily  furnished,  seemed  to  serve  as  the 
children's  playroom.  In  one  corner  was  a  kind  of  Indian 
wigwam.  Doris  Rotermund,  in  a  blue  cloth  dress,  was 
sitting  on  a  bench,  leaning  over,  with  her  hands  clasped 
between  her  knees  and  her  bright  eyes  fixed  attentively 
on  the  naked  children  playing  in  front  of  her.  She  had 
evidently  tried  to  combine  play  with  a  degree  of  danger, 
for  here  and  there,  in  the  cracks  of  the  old  wooden  floor, 
she  had  stuck  pieces  of  stinging  nettles  dried  from  the 
year  before.  The  children  were  having  a  regular  game 
jumping  to  and  fro  among  them.  Every  one  seemed  to 
be  allowed  to  endanger  the  others  a  little  if  he  were  willing 
to  risk  his  own  safety  to  do  it.  The  game  seemed  to  be 
an  old  summer  favorite  rigged  up  here  rather  inadequately 
to  put  a  little  more  life  into  the  dreary  winter  day.  The 
largest  two,  a  boy  and  a  girl  of  about  ten,  evidently  the 
two  she  had  used  as  models  for  the  buckle,  were  jumping 
to  and  fro  with  glowing  faces.     But  the  smaller  child,  in 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  427 

some  distress,  lifted  its  leg's  timidly,  and  could  hardly  keep 
from  crying.  Over  this  picture  of  gay  child  life  the  scant 
retiring  \yinter  sun  shed  its  ungracious  light. 

Recognizing  him  at  once,  Doris  said  gravely,  "  Well, 
you  are  a  stranger." 

"  I  wanted  to  come  again,  just  for  a  little  while,"  Klaus 
said,  "and  see  how  you  are  getting  on."  And  standing 
there  beside  her,  he  told    her  about  buying  the  buckle. 

She  listened  to  him  quietly.  Then  calling  up  the  chil- 
dren, one  after  another,  she  told  him  their  names,  and 
looked  on  silently  while  he  patted  their  cheeks.  Then  he 
told  her  about  his  wife  and  children.  She  seemed  to 
know  already  most  of  what  he  told,  for  she  had  asked 
about  him  now  and  then  in  Hamburg. 

When  he  had  talked  with  her  for  some  time,  he  felt 
more  clearly  than  ever  that  she  was  being  cold  and  queer 
with  him,  and  that  she  didn't  want  to  see  him  alone.  At 
last  he  got  up,  still  hoping  to  get  a  word  with  her  alone. 
She  went  out  to  the  entry  with  him.  "  You  are  changed 
from  what  you  used  to  be,"  he  said. 

Slightly  embarrassed,  she  reached  for  her  hat  and  jacket, 
asked  where  he  was  going,  and  went  out  with  him.  "  I  can 
show  you  a  short  cut,"  she  said. 

The  weather  was  still  clear,  but  in  the  east  it  looked 
like  rain  or  snow.  She  led  him  through  the  bare  wet 
orchard  to  a  path  that  wound  slowly  past  the  village  out 
into  the  field.  He  would  have  liked  to  talk  intimately 
with  her,  but  something  in  her  mood  and  bearing  made 
him  keep  quiet.  When  they  reached  the  high  ground,  she 
pointed  to  a  village  far  over  in  the  valley,  saying,  "  Go 
straight  to  that  village."  Then,  in  order  to  prevent  him 
from  talking  about  anything  else,  she  went  on,  far  more 
circumstantially  than  was  necessary,  to  say  that  the  little 
place  was  named  Winkel,^  and  that  that  was  a  good  enough 
name  for  it,  because,  as  he  could  see  from  here,  it  lay  just 
in  the  corner  of  two  ascending  lines  of  forest.  Then  in  a 
quick,  decided  way,  she  held  out  her  hand. 

Holding  her  hand  fast,  he  looked  at  her  gloomily.     "  Six 

1  Winkel- comer. 


428  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

months  ago,"  he  said,  "  when  I  held  that  little  buckle  in 
my  hand,  I  had  an  impulse :  '  You  must  go  and  see  her 
again,'  it  said.  '  The  calm  and  breadth  and  simple  truth 
that  surrounds  her  will  give  you  great  joy,  will  do  you  a 
lot  of  good.'  And  now  I  am  seeing  you  again,  and  you 
are  cold  to  me." 

She  looked  at  him,  not  as  she  had  looked  when  she  had 
once  walked  beside  him  in  the  bloom  of  youth,  but  with 
the  eyes  of  an  artist  seeking  in  vain  the  lines  of  beauty 
that  rejoice  his  soul.  "  In  those  eyes,  and  around  that 
brow  and  mouth,"  she  said,  "  there  is  a  tension  that  ought 
not  to  be  there." 

"  Oh,"  said  Klaus,  angrily,  "  I  have  had  to  think  hard 
and  work  hard,  Doris  Rotermund.  It  was  stiff,  uphill 
work.  Just  consider  my  early  life  and  the  conditions  I 
came  from." 

"  Even  if  a  man  has  to  climb,"  she  said  sadly,  "  he  sliould 
not  strain  and  struggle  so  that  he  tears  his  clothes  hideously. 
Long  ago  we  had  a  laughing  discussion  about  sins,  if  you 
remember.  Well,  I  call  that  a  sin.  What  good  does  it 
do  a  man  to  gain  a  lot  of  outside  things  —  even  the  whole 
world  —  if  his  soul  grows  unlovely  ?  And  by  unlovely  I 
mean  narrow,  ungracious,  and  restless." 

Klaus  had  grown  very  cool.  "  Well,  then,"  he  said, 
"this  is  the  way  you  are  sending  me  off."  And  he  held 
out  his  hand  again. 

The  tears  poured  into  her  eyes.  "  I  remember  a  young 
man  who  had  broken  loose  from  his  chains,  and,  already  past 
thirty,  was  on  the  way  to  find  happiness.  And  in  that  I 
was  able  to  help  him.  Now  he  comes  to  see  me,  a  Ham- 
burg merchant,  who  knows  how  to  make  money."  She 
shrugged  her  shoulders,  as  if  to  say,  "  What  does  that 
amount  to  !  "  and  went  on,  "  He  is  covered  with  the  dust 
of  the  road,  and  he  has  a  hard  look  in  his  eyes  I  In  all 
these  years  you  have  not  had  time  to  ask  for  me  once  !  " 

He  shook  her  hand,  and  said  moodily:  "You  are  right. 
I  ought  not  to  have  come  to  you." 

Nodding  in  the  midst  of  her  tears,  she  dropped  his  hand 
and  left  him. 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  429 

He  went  silently  on  his  way  toward  the  village  in  the 
valley.  When  Doris  had  mentioned  its  name  in  pointing 
out  the  village,  Klaus  had  remembered  that  it  was  the 
home  of  the  gentle,  dark-eyed  girl  whom  he  had  played  false 
in  the  courtyard  in  Miihlen  Strasse,  when,  in  his  gay  coat, 
he  was  bookkeeper  in  the  little  varnish  factory.  Every 
time  since  then,  when  he  had  gone  anywhere  near  Miihlen 
Strasse  or  had  seen  a  girl  that  reminded  him  of  her,  the  deed 
had  brought  him  an  unpleasant  remembrance.  In  all  other 
particulars  his  life  seemed  to  him  to  have  been  honest, 
upright,  and  deserving  —  in  spite  of  all  kinds  of  deviations 
and  occasional  unnecessary  kicking  up  of  dust.  But  this 
bit  of  it  was  bad.  It  seemed  to  have  come  from  a  separate 
evil  part  of  him,  and  it  was  in  his  way  still.  That  quiet 
village  there  was  her  home.  He  w^ould  go  there  and  ask 
about  her,  and  perhaps  learn  one  more  unpleasant  thing. 
Well,  why  not  ?  He  had  better  go  on  ;  maybe  everything 
would  be  all  right ;  maybe  it  would  be  so  much  all  right 
that  he  could  have  a  good  laugh  over  it.  And  a  little 
laughing  wouldn't  hurt  him. 

He  reached  the  village,  and  came  to  the  main  street. 
He  asked  a  youngster  coming  from  school  about  her,  giv- 
ing her  last  name.  The  child  pointed  to  a  house  close  in 
front  of  him,  where  the  stable  door  was  open.  In  the 
dark  entry  a  woman  was  bustling  around  with  pails. 
Looking  at  her,  Klaus  saw  that  it  was  not  the  pretty  little 
girl  he  had  known,  but  hoping  to  get  news  of  her,  he 
stepped  up  and  asked  whether  she  happened  to  have  a 
relative  that  had  had  a  position  twenty  years  ago  in  Miihlen 
Strasse  in  Hamburg. 

Washing  the  wet  grain  from  her  hands,  the  woman  said, 
with  an  air  of  distrustful  curiosity,  "  Yes,  it  was  my 
sister." 

"  What  has  become  of  her  ?  " 

"  Well,"  she  said  slowly,  stepping  aside  to  get  a  better 
look  at  him,  "  she  was  engaged  at  that  time,  but  some  evil 
folks  broke  off  the  engagement.  Then  she  had  a  place  for 
several  years  in  Kiel.     And  then  she  died." 

She  led  the  way,  with  Klaus  passively  following  her, 


430  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

into  the  bare  little  room,  and  taking  a  little  picture  in  a 
shining  frame  from  the  bureau  with  its  crochet  cover, 
handed  it  to  him.  And  big,  handsome  Klaus  Baas,  who 
stood  up  straight  before  every  person  and  thing  in  Ham- 
burg, took  it  in  his  hand  very  humbly.  "  Yes,  it  is  she," 
he  said  forlornly.  "  I  used  to  know  her  then,  and  I 
remember  her  very  well." 

Meanwhile  the  man  that  had  been  bustling  around  at 
the  other  end  of  the  little  stable  had  come  up.  He  Avas  a 
little  fellow,  with  knowing  eyes,  and  he  had  a  short  pipe 
in  his  hand.  More  communicative  than  his  wife,  he  said, 
"  After  she  left  Hamburg  she  was  very  sad  and  avoided 
people.  At  last  she  got  a  little  queer,  and  went  to  live 
all  alone  in  the  little  house  across  the  street  just  beyond 
us.  She  supported  herself  by  washing  and  sewing.  One 
cold  winter  day  a  bad  fellow  spread  a  rumor  that  she  was 
receiving  men  callers.  She  left  her  house,  and  did  not 
come  back.  She  roamed  all  around  out  on  the  fields  be- 
yond the  farms.  We  didn't  know  anything  about  it,  and 
never  thinking  that  her  mind  might  have  given  way,  we 
supposed  she  had  probably  gone  to  Kiel.  So  we  went  to 
her  house  and  locked  up  the  boxes  and  chests,  and  then 
fastened  the  door,  too.  The  next  morning  a  sick  woman 
who  had  been  lying  awake  all  night  said  she  had  seen  her 
going  along  the  street  toward  her  house  in  the  moonlight. 
Toward  noon  she  was  found  frozen  to  death  in  the  field. 
Of  course  she  was  trying  to  get  into  her  house  in  the  night. 
My  dear  sir,  I'll  never  in  all  my  life  shut  other  people's 
doors  agaiu.  A  few  days  before  that  she  had  said,  'The 
world  is  so  bad.'  She  was  a  little  too  soft  and  tender  for 
this  world." 

Saying  that  he  was  sorr}'-  his  little  friend  had  had  such 
a  tragic  end,  Klaus  gently  replaced  the  picture  on  the 
bureau,  said  good-by,  and  left. 

On  the  street  again,  he  cast  a  glance  at  the  little  house 
in  which  "  his  little  friend  "  had  lived.  An  angry  passion 
swept  over  him.  "  What  devil  is  driving  me  to  run  around 
half  of  Holstein*^"  he  cried  to  himself.  "  What  am  I  doing 
here,  anyway  ?     Did  I  come  to  see  whether  that  damnable 


KLAUS   HINRICH   BAAS  431 

seed  I  planted  had  brought  forth  a  peach  tree  ?  Did  T 
want  to  amuse  myself  a  little  bit  with  the  little  thing 
again?  It  was  damnable!  Stupid  and  accursed!  Well, 
I  know  that  now.  I  did  what  I  meant  to,  and  I  know 
now  what  it's  worth." 

And  as  he  pondered  he  felt  that  as  he  was  carrying  that 
burden  now,  he  would  have  to  carry  it  always.  "  So  that's 
the  end  of  it,"  he  thought.  "  That's  what  came  of  it.  I 
have  ruined  a  life.  It  was  I  who  destroyed  that  delicate 
little  creature,  just  in  sport  —  in  overweening  arrogance. 
I'm  strong  and  big  and  smart,  of  course,  and  I  have  to  let 
people  know  it.  I  had  to  impress  that  old  maid.  And 
day  before  yesterday  I  had  to  let  loose  on  my  own  good 
wife.  Of  course  I'm  strong  and  big  and  smart,  and  I 
have  to  show  it.  Of  course  I've  got  to  be  haughty  and 
overbearing.  Didn't  I  pounce  on  Sanna  magnificently, 
though  she  is  far  finer  and  better  than  I  am  ?  And  on 
Arthur  Eschen,  too  !  And  on  Heini  Peters,  the  last  time 
I  saw  him!  Well,  I  am  big  and  strong  and  smart.  But 
Arthur  Eschen  and  Heini  Peters  haven't  what  I  have  on 
their  consciences." 

By  this  time  he  had  reached  the  edge  of  the  village 
where  the  street  branches.  He  asked  some  children  stand- 
ing in  the  wet  snow  up  by  a  house  where  he  could  strike 
the  road  to  Neumiinster.  While  the  older  ones  were  di- 
recting him,  one  of  the  smaller  ones  cried,  "  What  kind  of 
a  manis  that?"  "  He's  a  prince,"  said  another,  probably 
impressed  by  his  size  and  his  bearing.  "  No,"  said  another, 
importantly,  in  a  high  childish  voice,  "  lie's  a  pilgrim,"  using 
a  word  it  had  probably  learned  in  school.  Klaus  caught 
the  word  drearily.  "  And  what  a  pilgrim  !  "  he  thought 
bitterly,  branching  out  into  the  lonely  twilight. 

It  was  a  straight,  barren  Holstein  road,  bordered  by 
slanting  trees.  Rain,  mingled  with  snow,  beat  against  him 
as  he  walked.  "  I've  been  arrogant  and  grandiloquent  all 
my  life,"  he  thought j  "a  regular  Baas  —  a  fool.  Even 
when  I  used  to  play  that  I  was  the  Czar  of  Russia!  And 
when  I  told  those  yarns  on  the  Grossneumarkt.  And 
when  I  sneaked  around    St.    Pauli  like   a  young    clown. 


432  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

And  at  noons  in  Trimborn's  office,  when  I  tried  to  catch 
shooting  stars  with  my  cap.  And  the  more  luck  of  all 
kinds  I've  had,  the  more  my  grandiloquence  has  shot 
up,  until  day  before  yesterday  it  set  me  beside  myself. 
Think  of  it  —  gone  mad  with  arrogance!  But  now  I've 
caught  it. 

"  It  is  good  for  me  to  know  it,"  he  thought  gloomily. 
"  Of  course  it's  a  good  thing.  Life  has  got  to  be  clear  and 
absolutely  true.  There  can't  be  any  concealing  or  shifting. 
I  have  absolutely  ruined  a  human  life.  I  don't  know 
whether  there's  a  God  or  a  beyond.  And  if  I  did,  it 
wouldn't  change  anything.  In  the  first  place,  it's  done; 
and  in  the  second  place,  it  was  and  remains  my  own  doing. 
It's  true  I  didn't  intend  it,  and  it's  true  that  many  a  stupid 
trick  like  that  turns  out  all  right.  But  in  this  case  it's 
done." 

He  plunged  along  vigorously  through  the  wet  snow. 
Those  straight  Holstein  roads,  with  their  spare  slanting 
trees,  were  made  to  make  people  taste  hours  like  these  to 
the  full.  They  stretch  ahead  for  miles  —  it  seems  to  the 
end  of  the  world.  Klaus  had  not  had  so  much  time  to 
reflect  since  the  day  he  had  ridden  to  Schleswig  with  Flora 
twenty  years  before.  "  Yes,"  he  thought  again,  "  it's  a 
good  thing  for  me  to  realize  this.  The  evil  was  done  long 
ago.  I  simply  didn't  know  it.  It  has  just  been  running 
along  behind  me  like  a  dumb  beast  all  the  time.  Now  it 
has  caught  up  with  me,  and  I  know  what  it  is.  .  .  .  I  come 
of  upright  parents,  from  good  peasant  stock.  My  father 
was  easy-going,  and  had  some  distinction;  my  mother  was 
severe  and  faithful.  Those  qualities,  fused,  make  a  good 
mixture.  But  it  has  one  failing  —  it  is  arrogant.  Just 
as  other  people  inherit  gout  or  deafness,  so  I've  inherited 
arrogance.  From  my  youth  up  it  has  always  risen  in  me 
in  rapidly  changing  colors,  like  a  bright-colored  snake's 
head.  I've  never  seen  it  or  noticed  it,  although  my  good 
mother  used  to  strike  at  it  with  the  tongs  when  I  was  a  child. 
But  now  it  is  fully  revealed.  This  snake,  so  I  have  just 
heard,  destroyed  a  human  life  ;  and  day  before  yesterday 
it  wound  itself  around  the  person  dearest  to  me  on  earth. 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  433 

Now,  I'm  through  with  it  —  forever.  Riglit  here  on  this 
Ilolsteiii  road  I'm  going  to  throttle  the  handsome,  insolent 
thing — right  around  its  throat.  And  now  it's  gone  — 
Klaas  Hinrich  Baas.     Forty-five  years  old  !  " 

Talking  thus  to  himself,  he  came  late  in  the  evening  to 
the  city. 

He  went  to  the  Bahnhof  Hotel  to  see  if  by  any  chance 
there  was  a  telegram  there  from  Hasse,  though  he  thought 
it  unlikely  that  there  would  be.  Then  he  intended  to 
take  the  night  train  to  Hamburg,  for  he  felt  a  strong 
yearning  to  get  home  to  Sanna  and  the  children.  ''  And 
I  will  be  very  good  to  them,"  he  thought. 

To  his  amazement,  there  really  was  a  telegram  waiting 
for  him.  Curious,  he  opened  it  as  soon  as  he  got  on  the 
steps  leading  to  the  street.  With  his  eyes  opening  wider 
and  wider,  he  read  that  according  to  a  communication  from 
the  Hasse  firm  in  Shanghai,  the  business  with  the  man 
from  Liibeck  could  not  be  arranged.  It  would  therefore 
be  necessary  for  Klaus  to  go  to  China  instead  of  Thielen, 
and  to  remain  there  as  long  as  the  war  lasted.  He  must 
go  by  way  of  New  York  on  February  22.  Klaus  felt  sud- 
denly staggered  —  in  body  and  soul.  Go  to  China  in  ten 
days  !  Perhaps  for  years  !  And  just  at  this  time  !  He 
went  into  the  station,  bought  a  ticket,  then  walked  up 
and  down  the  platform  till  the  train  came,  hardly  knowing 
what  he  was  doing.  Go  to  China  in  ten  days  I  And 
now  !  Just  at  the  time  when  he  had  so  many  things  to 
make  right,  and  had  wanted  to  do  it  !  Just  when  he  had 
meant  to  live  a  less  tense,  more  gracious  life  !  Go  away 
now  —  perhaps  forever.     It  was  bitterly  hard. 

The  train  rattled  and  rumbled  through  the  night.  The 
snow  fluttered  softly  against  the  window.  His  fellow 
travellers  slept,  or  sat  in  silent  thought,  while  Klaus's  soul 
toiled  and  labored  in  the  depths.  He  looked  out  gloomily 
into  the  night.  Well,  that  was  the  way  ;  now  he  must 
accept  this  too.  Everything,  everything  !  He  must  bear 
every  act  in  the  course  of  his  life,  and  now  this  separation 
too.  He  must  accept  everything  !  And  yet  he  must  not 
despair  or  grow  hard.  He  must  do,  calmly  and  kindly, 
2r 


434  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

anything  that  could  still  be  done.  And  if  a  man  had  only 
ten  days  —  or  only  three,  for  that  matter  —  to  follow  a 
course  he  knows  to  be  right,  he  must  follow  it.  And  if 
the  eternal  powers  had  willed  or  permitted  him  to  have  the 
many  odious  experiences  he  had  had  during  the  last  few 
days,  and  even  if  now,  when  he  wanted  to  make  things 
right,  they  willed  that  he  should  go  away,  —  perhaps  for- 
ever, —  well  and  good  !  He  would  silently  do  what  was 
left  for  him.  Then  before  man  or  God  —  if  there  were  a 
God  —  he  would  stand  fast  !  He  would  not  let  himself  be 
cast  down,  either  by  the  experiences  of  to-day,  or  by  his  quar- 
rel with  Sanna,  or  by  this  China  prospect.  He  would  not 
sli23  out  of  the  stable  door  like  a  bad  servant,  or  sneak  out 
of  the  world  like  a  rascal.  He  would  remain  there,  brave 
and  cheerful,  so  long  as  he  had  a  post  to  fill.  It  is  enough 
for  us  to  stand  firm  on  the  earth  and  desire  what  is  good. 
Nothing  —  not  even  the  worst  that  can  happen  to  a  man 
—  can  be  stronger  and  greater  than  his  own  will.  And 
tiierefore  ! 

He  reached  Altona,  made  a  quick  connection,  and 
toward  midnight  knocked  against  the  bedroom  window  in 
Norder  Strasse  in  Blankenese. 

Sanna  came  to  the  window  at  once,  saw  him  standing 
there  in  the  bright  snowy  night,  and  went  to  the  door  just 
as  she  was.  Putting  her  arms  around  him,  cold  and  wet 
with  snow,  she  said,  "I  wanted  to  come  to  the  station, 
but  I  didn't  dare  to  leave  the  children  alone.  Do  you 
know  that  you  have  to  leave  for  China  in  ten  days  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  said,  caressing  her.  "  And  Sanna," 
he  said,  "  we  are  going  to  be  happier  together  than  we 
have  ever  been  before." 

Of  all  that  he  had  been  through  he  said  nothing. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

On  a  dull,  windy  February  afternoon,  ten  days  later, 
Klaus  said  good-by  to  the  children  and  went  to  Hamburg 
with  Sanna.  At  the  station  they  got  into  the  carriage 
Hasse  had  sent  and  drove  to  Wex  Strasse,  where  Klaus 
was  to  say  good-by  to  his  mother.  She  was  still  living  in 
the  same  place,  but  now  as  tenant  of  her  married  son, 
who  had  set  up  a  locksmith  shop  in  the  court. 

She  was  old  and  decrepit  now,  and  suffered  from  a 
constricted  chest.  When  they  went  in,  she  was  sitting 
with  her  spectacles  on  her  nose,  in  front  of  the  drawer  of 
her  big  sewing  table,  usually  carefully  locked.  She  was 
counting  out  the  rent  to  her  daughter-in-law.  "  You  will 
have  to  wait  a  minute,"  she  said  to  Klaus. 

After  waiting  for  Saima  and  his  sister-in-law  to  go  out, 
Klaus  said,  "  Well,  mother,  now  I  have  to  go  away  again." 

Taking  off  her  glasses,  she  said,  with  a  satirical  little 
smile,  in  an  effort  to  cheer  him  up  and  to  keep  from  show- 
ing her  feelings,  "  Up  here  above  us  lives  the  silliest  old 
woman  —  yesterday  she  went  to  Wedel  to  see  her  children. 
And  here  she  says  that  in  Wedel  they  can  hear  the  war 
plainly  —  every  single  cannon  boom  !  You  see  she  heard 
the  cannon  in  Cuxhaven,  and  thought  it  was  the  ones  in 
Asia!" 

"  I'm  hoping  to  be  back  in  a  year,  mother,"  Klaus  said, 
"but  it  may  be  longer." 

Smoothing  down  her  apron  with  her  thin  old  hand,  she 
looked  helplessly  around  the  room.  "  Yes,  yes,  I  see," 
she  said. 

"  Isn't  there  anything  at  all  I  can  do  for  you,  mother  ?  " 

Slie  shook  her  head.  "  Everything's  all  right,  Klaus, 
except  that  I  can't  keep  warm  in  bed  any  more.     I  don't 

436 


436  KLAUS  HINRICH   BAAS 

know  why ;  perhaps  it's  because  the  quilt  is  old  and  the 
feathers  have  gradually  got  lumpy.  You  see,  when  I  lie 
on  my  back  and  raise  my  knees  a  little  —  you  always  used 
to  call  it  making  a  dog-kennel  —  then  the  feathers  all  fall 
down  every  which  way  and  my  knees  get  cold." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  long  ago  ?  "  he  said  re- 
proachfully.   "  Sanna  will  send  you  a  new  quilt  to-morrow. " 

She  raised  her  hands  in  horror.  "That  would  never 
do,  boy.  Why,  what  would  Fritz's  wife  think,  if  she 
knew  i  told  you  that  ?  " 

"  I'll  just  act  as  if  I  noticed  that  the  quilt  was  old  my- 
self," he  said.  "  A  new  one  will  come  to-morrow.  And 
mind  you  take  it  !     Isn't  there  anything  else,  mother?  " 

"No,  no,  my  boy,"  she  said  again.  "So  long  as  I'm 
able  to  get  around  and  help  myself  there's  no  trouble. 
The  only  thing  I  don't  like  to  think  of  is  when  I  come  to 
die.  Fritz's  wife  is  all  right,  of  course ;  but  she  doesn't 
quite  see  things,  or  know  what  to  do  in  a  case  like  that." 
She  shook  her  white  head.  "Otherwise  I'm  not  a  bit 
afraid  of  death.  I've  been  pretty  severe  with  you  —  but 
it  was  necessary.  You  always  held  your  nose  too  high  in 
the  air,  your  father  and  all  of  you  —  and  you  most  of  all. 
And  then  He — I  mean  God  —  humbled  me  so.  Well  — 
everything  is  all  right  —  I'm  not  afraid  to  die.  But  it's 
true  I  don't  like  to  think  of  my  last  bed.  But  then  —  I've 
got  over  the  fences  and  the  hedges  in  my  lifetime  all  right, 
and  I'll  get  over  the  grave  all  right  too." 

Klaus  looked  helplessly  into  her  old  face.  She  who  had 
worked  so  much  and  looked  out  for  so  much  was  now 
afraid  about  the  last  little  offices!  And  he  must  go  away 
and  could  not  help  her.  "  I'll  speak  to  both  of  the 
women,"  he  said.  "The  two  women  can  certainly  at- 
tend to  one  old  lady." 

She  ran  her  stiff  old  hand  over  the  table  and  smiled 
again  in  her  mocking  old  way.  "  Well,  come  back  to  your 
family  safe  and  sound,"  she  said,  "and  remember  me  to 
Hanna  and  her  husband!  "  Getting  up,  she  went  to  the 
bureau.  "  I  wanted  to  give  you  something  to  take  along," 
she  said,  "  something  I've  always  kept  by  me."     She  took 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  437 

out  a  chip  box  about  as  big  as  her  hand  and  plainly  very 
old,  and  held  it  up  in  her  shaking  hand.  "  I  cut  off  some 
of  Lotte's  hair  and  some  of  your  father's  when  they  died," 
she  said.  Then  she  began  to  weep  bitterly.  "  I  don't 
want  it  to  go  into  strangers'  hands.  Will  you  take  it 
and  put  it  by — you  went  through  everything  with  me." 

Caressing  her  and  kissing  her  with  a  trembling  mouth, 
Klaus  went  out. 

They  drove  back  to  the  station,  got  the  baggage,  and 
drove  to  the  harbor.  Sanna  sat  beside  him,  pale  and 
silent,  holding  his  hand  close. 

On  the  Lombards-Briicke  he  took  a  good  look  out  on 
both  sides  of  him.  The  deep  blue  water  was  ruffled  by 
the  wind  ;  the  buildings  round  about  stood  out  in  the 
fresh,  gray  light  of  water  and  sky.  Everything  seemed 
to  stand  there  clear  and  secure  in  that  subdued,  austere, 
northern  light.  Turning  his  thoughts  away  from  the 
lonely  old  woman  he  had  just  left,  Klaus  said,  "  Do  you 
know,  when  I  come  back,  1  think  I  will  manage  to  be  con- 
nected in  some  way  with  the  city.  I'll  take  some  kind  of 
office  or  make  myself  useful  in  some  other  way.  I'd  like 
above  ever3^thing  to  see  that  children  have  plenty  of  room 
to  play  in,  Sanna.  When  I  was  a  boy  I  was  a  great  player, 
and  I  know  what  it  means.  For  children  all  of  life  and 
art  is  in  play." 

In  front  of  the  main  station  on  the  Glockengiesserwall 
there  was  a  blockade  caused  by  the  street-cars  that  cross 
there  and  the  throngs  of  people  and  vehicles.  Looking 
out  over  the  traffic,  he  said,  "  It's  been  thirty  years  since 
I  came  here  with  my  father,  with  those  old  yellow  classics 
under  my  arm.  All  the  people  walking  along  here  amazed 
me  then,  and  I  wondered  how  they  all  made  a  living  here, 
in  the  midst  of  nothing  but  stone  and  iron.  Now  there 
are  more  than  twice  as  many  here.  Since  that  time  I've 
had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  economic  conditions  and 
I've  found  out  how  they  make  their  living,  and  indeed 
I've  done  a  good  deal  of  that  myself.  I  have  been  what  my 
name  indicates,  a  Baas  —  that  is  to  say,  a  boss,  that  is,  a 
breadgiver.     My  forefather  was  a  boss  in  the  wheatfields; 


438  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

I  am  one  in  a  merchant's  office.  And  yet,  when  I  see  a 
throng  of  people  like  this,  I  have  the  same  feeling  of  sur- 
prise I  had  thirty  years  ago.  I  suppose  there's  still  some- 
thing in  me  of  the  country  boy  that  grew  up  among  the 
wheatfielJs  that  supply  bread  and  porridge.  Just  look  at 
the  crowds!  " 

Winding  its  way  slowly  along,  the  carriage  set  off 
toward  the  harbor  at  a  good  pace,  and  soon  reached  the 
long  streets  along  the  docks.  Then  it  stopped,  and  they 
went  into  the  long  piers  at  which  two  or  three  steamers 
were  loading  or  unloading  cargo.  Through  the  noise  of  the 
workmen,  they  passed  along  among  huge  piles  of  sacks, 
timber,  hides,  metals,  casks,  and  boxes.  Wheelbarrows 
rolled  heavily  along,  clattering  on  the  iron-covered  planks  ; 
the  windlasses  were  pulling  on  their  cogwheels;  chains 
were  clanking  against  the  hatches.  Over  all  sounded  the 
roaring,  washing,  and  beating  of  the  waves  against  the 
pier  and  the  whistling  and  hissing  of  the  steam.  On 
the  various  pillars  were  posted  the  names  of  all  the  seaport 
towns  from  Cherbourg  to  Hongkong.  The  whole  world 
seemed,  in  a  sense,  to  be  lined  up  at  this  one  spot.  As  a 
boy,  Klaus  had  seen  all  this  traffic  every  day ;  as  a  man, 
it  had  given  him  a  great  sense  of  pride  and  satisfaction. 
Now  it  left  him  cold,  and  he  only  gripped  Sauna's  arm 
more  tightly. 

They  went  over  the  gangway  on  board  the  ship,  and  up 
to  the  stateroom  reserved  for  him.  They  inspected  it 
carefully,  each  thinking  sadly,  "Now  comes  the  parting." 

"  Klaus,"  said  Sanna,  quietly,  "  I'm  anxious  about  how 
our  youngest  boy  is  going  to  turn  out.  There's  a  weak, 
rather  timid  streak  in  him  that  makes  him  rather  like 
Uncle  Eberhard  or  Arthur.  If  he  doesn't  develop,  he 
won't  please  you  when  you  get  back." 

Klaus  shook  his  head.  "I  know,  Sanna," he  said,  "that 
one  of  my  children  may  be  like  my  mother  —  distressing 
itself  and  others  by  its  own  hardness.  And  I  know  that 
another  of  them  may  be  like  Uncle  Eberhard,  lacking  in 
will  and  efficiency.  Nature  blindly  endows  people  with 
a  collection  of  gifts  which  their  ancestors  had.     They  may 


KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS  439 

be  useful  or  useless,  good  or  bad.  It  is  not  possible  to 
break  or  to  reform  the  original  character  ;  nor  is  it  right 
to  blame  or  despise  it.  The  only  thing  that  can  be  done 
is  to  improve  it.  You  can  strengthen  the  weak  somewhat, 
and  soften  the  obstinate,  and  turn  the  mischievous  toward 
good;  and  you  can  humble  the  arrogant  and  presumptu- 
ous a  little.  I've  found  that  out.  Sauna.  Bring  up  the 
children  as  your  mother  brought  you  up,  firmly  and 
kindly.  You  are  now  as  she  was,  without  a  husband,  my 
poor  little  wife." 

Saima  struggled  with  her  tears. 

"Where  are  the  books?"  said  Klaus  at  last. 

She  showed  him  a  small  new  set  of  the  noblest  books  of 
all  times.  '■'  When  I  was  a  young  man,"  he  said,  "  I  read 
them,  and  certainly  profited  by  them,  although  I  was  still 
too  young  for  them.  But  since  then  I  haven't  seen 
books  like  these  for  twenty  years,  and  indeed,  I've  scorned 
them.  Now  I'm  taking  them  along,  and  I  know  I'm  going 
to  read  them.  It  seems,  Sanna,"  he  went  on,  with  a  some- 
what mocking  little  smile,  "  it  seems  as  if  this  man  has  to 
keep  on  learning  and  unlearning  as  long  as  he  lives." 

"Oh,  I  love  you  so,"  said  Sanna,  putting  her  arms 
around  him.  "I  love  you  so  tremendously!  How  can  I 
live  without  you  ?  " 

He  caressed  her  cheeks  again  and  again,  and  kissed  her. 
"  Hark  !  there's  the  whistle  !  You  must  go  now,  Sanna  ! 
If  you  don't,  you'll  have  to  go  .along  to  China  !  How  I'd 
love  to  take  you  !  Dear,  dear  comrade  !  But  now — go, 
dear.     I  love  you.     It  has  to  be,  Sanna  ! " 

They  went  out  of  the  stateroom  and  down  toward  the 
gangway.  He  went  over  with  her,  and  then  walked  back 
alone.  Seeing  an  elderly  lawyer  he  knew,  who  was  going 
as  far  as  New  York,  he  went  up  to  him  and  said  something, 
he  hardly  knew  what,  for  he  kept  looking  over  at  Sanna 
standing  beside  a  pile  of  huge  mahogany  tree  trunks,  pale 
and  straight  as  she  had  been  the  time  he  wanted  to  kiss 
her  and  she  had  said,  "  I  will  not." 

The  gangplank  was  drawn  in.  Down  from  the  bridge 
shrieked  the  mate's  whistle.     With  a  loud  roaring,  the  big 


440  KLAUS  HINRICH  BAAS 

boat  drew  out  of  the  dock.  The  tuning  up  of  gay  music 
broke  harshly  in  upon  his  sadness.  Pale,  with  brows 
drawn,  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  Sanna  over  there.  Then 
the  boat  glided  to  the  larboard  out  into  the  channel,  and 
he  saw  her  no  more. 

They  made  their  way  slowly  through  the  harbor.  Be- 
low them  they  heard  the  noisy  crowd  of  tugs,  ferry-boats, 
lighters,  and  harbor  boats.  A  great  steamer  coming  up 
the  harbor  glided  close  past  them.  The  music  mingled 
in  discord.  The  hammering  on  the  wharves  sounded  clear 
and  distinct.  On  the  other  side  the  masses  of  buildings 
with  towers  and  spires  rising  above  them  lay  silent. 

When  he  came  on  deck  next  morning  he  found  that  the 
northwest  wind  had  become  fresher  and  colder.  On  the 
weather  side  a  sloping  wave  now  and  then  struck  hard 
against  the  ship,  throwing  its  foam  over  the  railing.  Go- 
ing over  to  leeward,  Klaus  found  a  place  beside  the  cabin, 
and  peered  over  toward  land;  but  all  he  could  see  was  a 
thin  streak  of  yellow  sand  and  a  lighthouse  —  undoubtedly 
the  Norderney  lights. 

It  was  regular  North  Sea  weather.  Gray  clouds,  vary- 
ing in  dulness,  overlapped  and  covered  the  whole  sky. 
Below  rolled  the  sea  —  also  dark  gray.  Only  from  a  tiny 
cleft  in  the  clouds,  in  several  places  far  and  near,  a  lurk- 
ing gleam  shot  through,  like  the  glitter  of  shining  steel. 


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At  the  Sign  of  the  Fox 

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The  Garden,  You  and  I 

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The   open   Window*      Tales  of  the  Months. 

"A  little  vacation  from  the  sophistication  of  the  commonplace."— /4r^i»«aaA 

Poppea  of  the  Post-Office 

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genial  entirety  refreshes  like  a  cooling  shower."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

Princess  Flower  Hat  just  Ready 

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